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University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

Gift  of 
THE  HEARST  CORPORATION 


WORKS  BY  A.  CONAN  DOYLE. 

The  White  Company. 

Micah  Clarke. 

The  Refugees. 

Rodney  Stone. 

Uncle  Bernac  :  a  Memory  of  the  Empire. 

The  Great  Shadow. 

Adventures  of  Sherlock  Holmes. 

Memoirs  of  Sherlock  Holmes. 

The  Sign  of  Four. 

A  Study  in  Scarlet. 

The  Firm  of  Girdlestone. 

The  Parasite. 

Exploits  of  Brigadier  Gerard. 

Captain  of  the  Polestar. 

Round  the  Red  Lamp. 

The  Stark  Munro  Letters. 

The  Doings  of  Raffles  Haw. 

The  Tragedy  of  the  Korosko. 

Songs  of  Action.  •  - 

A  Duet. 

The  Green  Flag,  and  other  Stories  of  War 

and  Sport. 
The  Great  Boer  War. 
Adventures  of  Gerard. 
The  Hound  of  the  Baskervilles. 
Return  of  Sherlock  Holmes. 
Sir  Nigel. 
Through  the  Magic  Door. 


"I   BURST   WITH    A   SHRIEK   INTO    MY    OWN   LIFE. 


[Page  12. 


ROUND   THE   FIRE 
STORIES 


BY 

ARTHUR  CONAN   DOYLE 

AUTHOR   OF 
<«THK   WHITK   COMPANY,"    ETC.,    KTC. 


WITH  A    FRONTISPIECE 
BY  A.    CASTA IGNE 


LONDON 
SMITH,  ELDER  &  CO.,  is,  WATERLOO  PLACE 

1908 

{All  rights  reserved) 


PRINTED  BY 

WILLIAM  CLOWES  AND  SONS,  LIMITED, 

LONDON  AND  BECCLES. 


PREFACE 


In  a  previous  volume,  "The  Green  Mag,"  I  have 
assembled  a  number  of  my  stories  which  deal  with 
warfare  or  with  sport.  In  the  present  collection  those 
have  been  brought  together  which  are  concerned  with 
the  grotesque  and  with  the  terrible — such  tales  as 
might  well  be  read  "round  the  fire"  upon  a  winter's 
night.  This  would  be  my  ideal  atmosphere  for  such 
stories,  if  an  author  might  choose  his  time  and  place 
as  an  artist  does  the  light  and  hanging  of  his  picture. 
However,  if  they  have  the  good  fortune  to  give  pleasure 
to  any  one,  at  any  time  or  place,  their  author  will  be 
very  satisfied. 

AKTHUK  CONAN  DOYLE. 

WlNDLESHAM, 

Cbowbobough. 


CONTENTS 


I. 

The  Leather  Funnel 

PAGB 
1 

II. 

The  Beetle  Hunter 

18 

III. 

The  Man  with  the  Watches 

...      41 

IV. 

The  Pot  op  Caviare 

65 

V. 

The  Japanned  Box  ... 

...      85 

VI. 

The  Black  Doctor 

103 

VII. 

Playing  with  Fire  ... 

...    129 

VIII. 

The  Jew's  Breastplate... 

149 

IX. 

The  Lost  Special    ... 

...    177 

X. 

The  Club-footed  Grocer 

202 

XI. 

The  Sealed  Room    ... 

...    229 

XII. 

The  Brazilian  Cat 

248 

XIII. 

The  Usher  of  Lea  House  School     ... 

...    276 

XIV. 

The  Brown  Hand 

299 

XV. 

The  Fiend  of  the  Cooperage 

...    321 

XVI. 

Jelland's  Voyage 

340 

XVII. 

B.  24           

...    351 

"I  burst  with  a  Shriek  into  my  own  Life."     Frontispiece, 
(From  a  drawing  by  A,  Ca$taigne.) 


ROUND   THE    FIRE   STORIES 


THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL 

My  friend,  Lionel  Dacre,  lived  in  the  Avenue  de 
Wagram,  Paris.  His  house  was  that  small  one,  with 
the  iron  railings  and  grass  plot  in  front  of  it,  on  the  left- 
hand  side  as  you  pass  down  from  the  Arc  de  Triomphe. 
I  fancy  that  it  had  been  there  long  before  the  avenue 
was  constructed,  for  the  grey  tiles  were  stained  with 
lichens,  and  the  walls  were  mildewed  and  discoloured 
with  age.  It  looked  a  small  house  from  the  street, 
five  windows  in  front,  if  I  remember  right,  but  it 
deepened  into  a  single  long  chamber  at  the  back.  It 
was  here  that  Dacre  had  that  singular  library  of  occult 
literature,  and  the  fantastic  curiosities  which  served  as 
a  hobby  for  himself,  and  an  amusement  for  his  friends. 
A  wealthy  man  of  refined  and  eccentric  tastes,  he 
had  spent  much  of  his  life  and  fortune  in  gathering 
together  what  was  said  to  be  a  unique  private  collection 
of  Talmudic,  cabalistic,  and  magical  works,  many  of 
them  of  great  rarity  and  value.  His  tastes  leaned 
toward  the  marvellous  and  the  monstrous,  and  I  have 
heard  that  his  experiments  in  the  direction  of  the 
unknown  have  passed  all  the  bounds  of  civilization  and 
of  decorum.  To  his  English  friends  he  never  alluded  to 
such  matters,  and  took  the  tone  of  the  student  and 
virtuoso ;  but  a  Frenchman  whose  tastes  were  of  the 

B 


2  THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL 

same  nature  has  assured  me  that  the  worst  excesses  of 
the  black  mass  have  been  perpetrated  in  that  large  and 
lofty  hall,  which  is  lined  with  the  shelves  of  his  books, 
and  the  cases  of  his  museum. 

Dacre's  appearance  was  enough  to  show  that  his 
deep  interest  in  these  psychic  matters  was  inteUectual 
rather  than  spiritual.  There  was  no  trace  of  asceticism 
upon  his  heavy  face,  but  there  was  much  mental  force 
in  his  huge  dome-like  skull,  which  curved  upward  from 
amongst  his  thinning  locks,  like  a  snow-peak  above  its 
fringe  of  fir  trees.  His  knowledge  was  greater  than 
his  wisdom,  and  his  powers  were  far  superior  to  his 
character.  The  small  bright  eyes,  buried  deeply  in  his 
fleshy  face,  twinkled  with  intelligence  and  an  unabated 
curiosity  of  life,  but  they  were  the  eyes  of  a  sensualist 
and  an  egotist.  Enough  of  the  man,  for  he  is  dead  now, 
poor  devil,  dead  at  the  very  time  that  he  had  made  sure 
that  he  had  at  last  discovered  the  eHxir  of  life.  It  is  not 
with  his  complex  character  that  I  have  to  deal,  but  with 
the  very  strange  and  inexplicable  incident  which  had 
its  rise  in  my  visit  to  him  in  the  early  spring  of  the 
year  '82. 

I  had  known  Dacre  in  England,  for  my  researches 
in  the  Assyrian  Eoom  of  the  British  Museum  had  been 
conducted  at  the  time  when  he  was  endeavouring  to 
establish  a  mystic  and  esoteric  meaning  in  the  Baby- 
lonian tablets,  and  this  community  of  interests  had 
brought  us  together.  Chance  remarks  had  led  to  daily 
conversation,  and  that  to  something  verging  upon  friend- 
ship. I  had  promised  him  that  on  my  next  visit  to 
Paris  I  would  call  upon  him.  At  the  time  when  I  was 
able  to  fulfil  my  compact  I  was  living  in  a  cottage 


THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL  3 

at  Fontainebleau,  and  as  the  evening  trains  were 
inconvenient,  he  asked  me  to  spend  the  night  in  his 
house. 

"  I  have  only  that  one  spare  couch,"  said  he,  pointing 
to  a  broad  sofa  in  his  large  salon;  "I  hope  that  you 
will  manage  to  be  comfortable  there." 

It  was  a  singular  bedroom,  with  its  high  walls  of 
brown  volumes,  but  there  could  be  no  more  agreeable 
furniture  to  a  bookworm  like  myself,  and  there  is  no 
scent  so  pleasant  to  my  nostrils  as  that  faint,  subtle 
reek  which  comes  from  an  ancient  book.  I  assured 
him  that  I  could  desire  no  more  charming  chamber, 
and  no  more  congenial  surroundings. 

"If  the  fittings  are  neither  convenient  nor  con- 
ventional, they  are  at  least  costly,"  said  he,  looking 
round  at  his  shelves.  "  I  have  expended  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  million  of  money  upon  these  objects  which 
surround  you.  Books,  weapons,  gems,  carvings,  tapes- 
tries, images  —there  is  hardly  a  thing  here  which  has 
not  its  history,  and  it  is  generally  one  worth  telling." 

He  was  seated  as  he  spoke  at  one  side  of  the  open 
fireplace,  and  I  at  the  other.  His  reading  table  was  on 
his  right,  and  the  strong  lamp  above  it  ringed  it  with 
a  very  vivid  circle  of  golden  light.  A  half-rolled 
palimpsest  lay  in  the  centre,  and  around  it  were  many 
quaint  articles  of  bric-a-brac.  One  of  these  was  a  large 
funnel,  such  as  is  used  for  filling  wine  casks.  It 
appeared  to  be  made  of  black  wood,  and  to  be  rimmed 
with  discoloured  brass. 

"  That  is  a  curious  thing,"  I  remarked.  "  What  is 
the  history  of  that  ? " 

"  Ah ! "  said  he,  "  it  is  the  very  question  which  I 


4  THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL 

have  had  occasion  to  ask  myself.  I  would  give  a  good 
deal  to  know.     Take  it  in  your  hands  and  examine  it." 

I  did  so,  and  found  that  what  I  had  imagined  to  be 
wood  was  in  reality  leather,  though  age  had  dried  it 
into  an  extreme  hardness.  It  was  a  large  funnel, 
and  might  hold  a  quart  when  full.  The  brass  rim 
encircled  the  wide  end,  but  the  narrow  was  also  tipped 
with  metal. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  it  ? "  asked  Dacre. 

"  I  should  imagine  that  it  belonged  to  some  vintner 
or  maltster  in  the  middle  ages,"  said  I.  "  I  have  seen 
in  England  leathern  drinking  flagons  of  the  seven- 
teenth century — 'black  jacks'  as  they  were  called — 
which  were  of  the  same  colour  and  hardness  as  this 
filler." 

"I  dare  say  the  date  would  be  about  the  same," 
said  Dacre,  "  and  no  doubt,  also,  it  was  used  for  filliog 
a  vessel  with  liquid.  If  my  suspicions  are  correct, 
however,  it  was  a  queer  vintner  who  used  it,  and  a 
very  singular  cask  which  was  filled.  Do  you  observe 
nothing  strange  at  the  spout  end  of  the  funnel." 

As  I  held  it  to  the  light  I  observed  that  at  a  spot 
some  five  inches  above  the  brass  tip  the  narrow  neck  of 
the  leather  funnel  was  all  haggled  and  scored,  as  if 
some  one  had  notched  it  round  with  a  blunt  knife. 
Only  at  that  point  was  there  any  roughening  of  the 
dead  black  surface. 

"  Some  one  has  tried  to  cut  off  the  neck." 

"  Would  you  call  it  a  cut  ? " 

"It  is  torn  and  lacerated.  It  must  have  taken 
some  strength  to  leave  these  marks  on  such  tough 
material,  whatever  the  instrument  may  have  been. 


THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL  5 

But  what  do  you  think  of  it?  I  can  tell  that  you 
know  more  than  you  say." 

Dacre  smiled,  and  his  little  eyes  twinkled  with 
knowledge. 

"Have  you  included  the  psychology  of  dreams 
among  your  learned  studies  ? "  he  asked. 

"I  did  not  even  know  that  there  was  such  a 
psychology." 

"My  dear  sir,  that  shelf  above  the  gem  case  is 
filled  with  volumes,  from  Albertus  Magnus  onward, 
which  deal  with  no  other  subject.  It  is  a  science  in 
itself." 

"  A  science  of  charlatans." 

"The  charlatan  is  always  the  pioneer.  From  the 
astrologer  came  the  astronomer,  from  the  alchemist 
the  chemist,  from  the  mesmerist  the  experimental 
psychologist.  The  quack  of  yesterday  is  the  professor 
of  to-morrow.  Even  such  subtle  and  elusive  things  as 
dreams  will  in  time  be  reduced  to  system  and  order. 
When  that  time  comes  the  researches  of  our  friends  in 
the  book-shelf  yonder  will  no  longer  be  the  amusement 
of  the  mystic,  but  the  foundations  of  a  science." 

"Supposing  that  is  so,  what  has  the  science  of 
dreams  to  do  with  a  large  black  brass-rimmed  funnel  ? " 

"  I  will  tell  you.  You  know  that  I  have  an  agent 
who  is  always  on  the  lookout  for  rarities  and  curiosities 
for  my  collection.  Some  days  ago  he  heard  of  a  dealer 
upon  one  of  the  Quais  who  had  acquired  some  old 
rubbish  found  in  a  cupboard  in  an  ancient  house  at  the 
back  of  the  Kue  Mathurin,  in  the  Quartier  Latin.  The 
dining-room  of  this  old  house  is  decorated  with  a  coat 
of  arms,  chevrons,  and  bars  rouge  upon  a  field  argent, 


6  THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL 

which  prove,  upon  inquiry,  to  be  the  shield  of  Nicholas 
de  la  Eeynie,  a  high  official  of  King  Louis  XIV.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  the  other  articles  in  the  cupboard 
date  back  to  the  early  days  of  that  king.  The  inference 
is,  therefore,  that  they  were  all  the  property  of  this 
Nicholas  de  la  Eeynie,  who  was,  as  I  understand,  the 
gentleman  specially  concerned  with  the  maintenance 
and  execution  of  the  Draconic  laws  of  that  epoch." 

"What  then?" 

*  I  would  ask  you  now  to  take  the  funnel  into  your 
hands  once  more  and  to  examine  the  upper  brass  rim. 
Can  you  make  out  any  lettering  upon  it  ? " 

There  were  certainly  some  scratches  upon  it,  almost 
obliterated  by  time.  The  general  effect  was  of  several 
letters,  the  last  of  which  bore  some  resemblance  to  a  B. 

"You  make  it  a  B? " 

"Yes,  I  do." 

"  So  do  I.  In  fact,  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  that 
it  is  a  B." 

"  But  the  nobleman  you  mentioned  would  have  had 
E  for  his  initial." 

"Exactly!  That's  the  beauty  of  it.  He  owned 
this  curious  object,  and  yet  he  had  some  one  else's 
initials  upon  it.    Why  did  he  do  this  ?  " 

"  I  can't  imagine ;  can  you  ?  " 

"Well,  I  might,  perhaps,  guess.  Do  you  observe 
something  drawn  a  little  further  along  the  rim  ? " 

"  I  should  say  it  was  a  crown." 

"  It  is  undoubtedly  a  crown ;  but  if  you  examine  it 
in  a  good  light,  you  will  convince  yourself  that  it  is 
not  an  ordinary  crown.  It  is  a  heraldic  crown — a 
badge  of  rank,  and  it  consists  of  an  alternation  of  four 


THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL  7 

pearls  and  strawberry  leaves,  the  proper  badge  of  a 
marquis.  We  may  infer,  therefore,  that  the  person  whose 
initials  end  in  B  was  entitled  to  wear  that  coronet." 

"Then  this  common  leather  filler  belonged  to  a 
marquis  ? " 

Dacre  gave  a  peculiar  smile. 

"  Or  to  some  member  of  the  family  of  a  marquis," 
said  he.  "  So  much  we  have  clearly  gathered  from  this 
engraved  rim." 

"  But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  dreams  ? "  I  do 
not  know  whether  it  was  from  a  look  upon  Dacre's 
face,  or  from  some  subtle  suggestion  in  his  manner,  but 
a  feeling  of  repulsion,  of  unreasoning  horror,  came  upon 
me  as  I  looked  at  the  gnarled  old  lump  of  leather. 

"  I  have  more  than  once  received  important  infor- 
mation through  my  dreams,"  said  my  companion,  in 
the  didactic  manner  which  he  loved  to  affect.  "  I 
make  it  a  rule  now  when  I  am  in  doubt  upon  any 
material  point  to  place  the  article  in  question  beside 
me  as  I  sleep,  and  to  hope  for  some  enlightenment. 
The  process  does  not  appear  to  me  to  be  very  obscure, 
though  it  has  not  yet  received  the  blessing  of  orthodox 
science.  According  to  my  theory,  any  object  which 
has  been  intimately  associated  with  any  supreme 
paroxysm  of  human  emotion,  whether  it  be  joy  or  pain, 
will  retain  a  certain  atmosphere  or  association  which  it 
is  capable  of  communicating  to  a  sensitive  mind.  By 
a  sensitive  mind  I  do  not  mean  an  abnormal  one,  but 
such  a  trained  and  educated  mind  as  you  or  I  possess." 

"  You  mean,  for  example,  that  if  I  slept  beside  that 
old  sword  upon  the  wall,  I  might  dream  of  some  bloody 
incident  in  which  that  very  sword  took  part  ? " 


8  THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL 

"An  excellent  example,  for,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
that  sword  was  used  in  that  fashion  by  me,  and  I  saw 
in  my  sleep  the  death  of  its  owner,  who  perished  in  a 
brisk  skirmish,  which  I  have  been  unable  to  identify, 
but  which  occurred  at  the  time  of  the  wars  of  the 
Frondists.  If  you  think  of  it,  some  of  our  popular 
observances  show  that  the  fact  has  already  been  recog- 
nized by  our  ancestors,  although  we,  in  our  wisdom, 
have  classed  it  among  superstitions." 

"  For  example  ?  " 

"  Well,  the  placing  of  the  bride's  cake  beneath  the 
pillow  in  order  that  the  sleeper  may  have  pleasant 
dreams.  That  is  one  of  several  instances  which  you 
will  find  set  forth  in  a  small  brochure  which  I  am  my- 
self writing  upon  the  subject.  But  to  come  back  to 
the  point,  I  slept  one  night  with  this  funnel  beside  me, 
and  I  had  a  dream  which  certainly  throws  a  curious 
light  upon  its  use  and  origin." 

"  What  did  you  dream  ? " 

"  I  dreamed —  "  He  paused,  and  an  intent  look  of 
interest  came  over  his  massive  face.  "  By  Jove,  that's 
well  thought  of,"  said  he.  "This  really  will  be  an 
exceedingly  interesting  experiment.  You  are  yourself 
a  psychic  subject — with  nerves  which  respond  readily 
to  any  impression." 

"  I  have  never  tested  myself  in  that  direction." 

"  Then  we  shall  test  you  to-night.  Might  I  ask 
you  as  a  very  great  favour,  when  you  occupy  that 
couch  to-night,  to  sleep  with  this  old  funnel  placed  by 
the  side  of  your  pillow  ?  " 

The  request  seemed  to  me  a  grotesque  one ;  but  I 
have  myself,  in  my  complex  nature,  a  hunger  after  all 


THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL        -  9 

which  is  bizarre  and  fantastic.  I  had  not  the  faintest 
belief  in  Dacre's  theory,  nor  any  hopes  for  success  in 
such  an  experiment ;  yet  it  amused  me  that  the  expe- 
riment should  be  made.  Dacre,  with  great  gravity, 
drew  a  small  stand  to  the  head  of  my  settee,  and  placed 
the  funnel  upon  it.  Then,  after  a  short  conversation, 
he  wished  me  good-night  and  left  me. 

***** 

I  sat  for  some  little  time  smoking  by  the  smoulder- 
ing fire,  and  turning  over  in  my  mind  the  curious 
incident  which  had  occurred,  and  the  strange  expe- 
rience which  might  lie  before  me.  Sceptical  as  I  was, 
there  was  something  impressive  in  the  assurance  of 
Dacre's  manner,  and  my  extraordinary  surroundings, 
the  huge  room  with  the  strange  and  often  sinister 
objects  which  were  hung  round  it,  struck  solemnity 
into  my  soul.  Finally  I  undressed,  and,  turning  out 
the  lamp,  I  lay  down.  After  long  tossing  I  fell  asleep. 
Let  me  try  to  describe  as  accurately  as  I  can  the  scene 
which  came  to  me  in  my  dreams.  It  stands  out  now 
in  my  memory  more  clearly  than  anything  which  I 
have  seen  with  my  waking  eyes. 

There  was  a  room  which  bore  the  appearance  of  a 
vault.  Four  spandrels  from  the  corners  ran  up  to  join 
a  sharp  cup-shaped  roof.  The  architecture  was  rough, 
but  very  strong.  It  was  evidently  part  of  a  great 
building. 

Three  men  in  black,  with  curious  top-heavy  black 
velvet  hats,  sat  in  a  line  upon  a  red-carpeted  dais. 
Their  faces  were  very  solemn  and  sad.  On  the  left 
stood  two  long-gowned  men  with  portfolios  in  their 
hands,  which  seemed  to  be  stuffed  with  papers.    Upon 


10  THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL 

the  right,  looking  toward  me,  was  a  small  woman  with 
blonde  hair  and  singular  light-blue  eyes— the  eyes  of 
a  child.  She  was  past  her  first  youth,  but  could  not 
yet  be  called  middle-aged.  Her  figure  was  inclined 
to  stoutness,  and  her  bearing  was  proud  and  confident. 
Her  face  was  pale,  but  serene.  It  was  a  curious  face, 
comely  and  yet  feline,  with  a  subtle  suggestion  of 
cruelty  about  the  straight,  strong  little  mouth  and 
chubby  jaw.  She  was  draped  in  some  sort  of  loose 
white  gown.  Beside  her  stood  a  thin,  eager  priest, 
who  whispered  in  her  ear,  and  continually  raised  a 
crucifix  before  her  eyes.  She  turned  her  head  and 
looked  fixedly  past  the  crucifix  at  the  three  men  in 
black,  who  were,  I  felt,  her  judges. 

As  I  gazed  the  three  men  stood  up  and  said  some- 
thing, but  I  could  distinguish  no  words,  though  I  was 
aware  that  it  was  the  central  one  who  was  speaking. 
They  then  swept  out  of  the  room,  followed  by  the  two 
men  with  the  papers.  At  the  same  instant  several 
rough-looking  fellows  in  stout  jerkins  came  bustling 
in  and  removed  first  the  red  carpet,  and  then  the 
boards  which  formed  the  dais,  so  as  to  entirely  clear 
the  room.  When  this  screen  was  removed  I  saw  some 
singular  articles  of  furniture  behind  it.  One  looked 
like  a  bed  with  wooden  rollers  at  each  end,  and  a 
winch  handle  to  regulate  its  length.  Another  was 
a  wooden  horse.  There  were  several  other  curious 
objects,  and  a  number  of  swinging  cords  which  played 
over  pulleys.     It  was  not  unlike  a  modern  gymnasium. 

When  the  room  had  been  cleared  there  appeared 
a  new  figure  upon  the  scene.  This  was  a  tall  thin 
person  clad  in  black,  with  a  gaunt  and  austere  face. 


THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL  11 

The  aspect  of  the  man  made  me  shudder.  His  clothes 
were  all  shining  with  grease  and  mottled  with  stains. 
He  bore  himself  with  a  slow  and  impressive  dignity, 
as  if  he  took  command  of  all  things  from  the  instant 
of  his  entrance.  In  spite  of  his  rude  appearance  and 
sordid  dress,  it  was  now  his  business,  his  room,  his  to 
command.  He  carried  a  coil  of  light  ropes  over  his 
left  fore-arm.  The  lady  looked  him  up  and  down  with 
a  searching  glance,  but  her  expression  was  unchanged. 
It  was  confident — even  defiant.  But  it  was  very 
different  with  the  priest.  His  face  was  ghastly  white, 
and  I  saw  the  moisture  glisten  and  run  on  his  high, 
sloping  forehead.  He  threw  up  his  hands  in  prayer, 
and  he  stooped  continually  to  mutter  frantic  words  in 
the  lady's  ear. 

The  man  in  black  now  advanced,  and  taking  one 
of  the  cords  from  his  left  arm,  he  bound  the  woman's 
hands  together.  She  held  them  meekly  toward  him 
as  he  did  so.  Then  he  took  her  arm  with  a  rough  grip 
and  led  her  toward  the  wooden  horse,  which  was  little 
higher  than  her  waist.  On  to  this  she  was  lifted  and 
laid,  with  her  back  upon  it,  and  her  face  to  the  ceiling, 
while  the  priest,  quivering  with  horror,  had  rushed  out 
of  the  room.  The  woman's  lips  were  moving  rapidly, 
and  though  I  could  hear  nothing,  I  knew  that  she  was 
praying.  Her  feet  hung  down  on  either  side  of  the 
horse,  and  I  saw  that  the  rough  varlets  in  attendance 
had  fastened  cords  to  her  ankles  and  secured  the  other 
ends  to  iron  rings  in  the  stone  floor. 

My  heart  sank  within  me  as  I  saw  these  ominous 
preparations,  and  yet  I  was  held  by  the  fascination  of 
horror,  and  I  could  not  take  my  eyes  from  the  strange 


12  THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL 

spectacle.  A  man  had  entered  the  room  with  a  bucket 
of  water  in  either  hand.  Another  followed  with  a  third 
bucket.  They  were  laid  beside  the  wooden  horse. 
The  second  man  had  a  wooden  dipper — a  bowl  with 
a  straight  handle — in  his  other  hand.  This  he  gave 
to  the  man  in  black.  At  the  same  moment  one  of 
the  varlets  approached  with  a  dark  object  in  his  hand, 
which  even  in  my  dream  filled  me  with  a  vague  feeling 
of  familiarity.  It  was  a  leathern  filler.  With  horrible 
energy  he  thrust  it — but  I  could  stand  no  more.  My 
hair  stood  on  end  with  horror.  I  writhed,  I  struggled, 
I  broke  through  the  bonds  of  sleep,  and  I  burst  with 
a  shriek  into  my  own  life,  and  found  myself  lying 
shivering  with  terror  in  the  huge  library,  with  the 
moonlight  flooding  through  the  window  and  throwing 
strange  silver  and  black  traceries  upon  the  opposite 
wall.  Oh,  what  a  blessed  relief  to  feel  that  I  was  back 
in  the  nineteenth  century — back  out  of  that  medieval 
vault  into  a  world  where  men  had  human  hearts  within 
their  bosoms.  I  sat  up  on  my  couch,  trembling  in 
every  limb,  my  mind  divided  between  thankfulness 
and  horror.  To  think  that  such  things  were  ever  done 
— that  they  could  be  done  without  God  striking  the 
villains  dead.  Was  it  all  a  fantasy,  or  did  it  really 
stand  for  something  which  had  happened  in  the  black, 
cruel  days  of  the  world's  history  ?  I  sank  my  throbbing 
head  upon  my  shaking  hands.  And  then,  suddenly, 
my  heart  seemed  to  stand  still  in  my  bosom,  and  I 
could  not  even  scream,  so  great  was  my  terror.  Some- 
thing was  advancing  toward  me  through  the  darkness 
of  the  room. 

It  is  a  horror  coming  upon  a  horror  which  breaks  a 


THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL  13 

man's  spirit.  I  could  not  reason,  I  could  not  pray ;  I 
could  only  sit  like  a  frozen  image,  and  glare  at  the  dark 
figure  which  was  coming  down  the  great  room.  And 
then  it  moved  out  into  the  white  lane  of  moonlight, 
and  I  breathed  once  more.  It  was  Dacre,  and  his  face 
showed  that  he  was  as  frightened  as  myself. 

"Was  that  you?  For  God's  sake  what's  the 
matter  ? "  he  asked  in  a  husky  voice. 

"  Oh,  Dacre,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  I  I  have  been 
down  into  hell.     It  was  dreadful." 

"  Then  it  was  you  who  screamed  ? " 

"  I  dare  say  it  was." 

"  It  rang  through  the  house.  The  servants  are  all 
terrified."  He  struck  a  match  and  lit  the  lamp.  "  I 
think  we  may  get  the  fire  to  burn  up  again,"  he  added, 
throwing  some  logs  upon  the  embers.  "  Good  God,  my 
dear  chap,  how  white  you  are !  You  look  as  if  you  had 
seen  a  ghost." 

"  So  I  have — several  ghosts." 

"  The  leather  funnel  has  acted,  then  ? " 

"  I  wouldn't  sleep  near  the  infernal  thing  again  for 
all  the  money  you  could  offer  me." 

Dacre  chuckled. 

"  I  expected  that  you  would  have  a  lively  night  of 
it,"  said  he.  "  You  took  it  out  of  me  in  return,  for 
that  scream  of  yours  wasn't  a  very  pleasant  sound  at 
two  in  the  morning.  I  suppose  from  what  you  say 
that  you  have  seen  the  whole  dreadful  business." 

"  What  dreadful  business  ? " 

"The  torture  of  the  water — the  'Extraordinary 
Question,'  as  it  was  called  in  the  genial  days  of  *  Le 
Boi  Soleil.'    Did  you  stand  it  out  to  the  end  ? " 


14  THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL 

"  No,  thank  God,  I  awoke  before  it  really  began." 

"  Ah !  it  is  just  as  well  for  you.  I  held  out  till 
the  third  bucket.  Well,  it  is  an  old  story,  and  they 
are  all  in  their  graves  now  anyhow,  so  what  does 
it  matter  how  they  got  there.  I  suppose  that  you 
have  no  idea  what  it  was  that  you  have  seen  ?  " 

aThe  torture  of  some  criminal.  She  must  have 
been  a  terrible  malefactor  indeed  if  her  crimes  are  in 
proportion  to  her  penalty." 

"  Well,  we  have  that  small  consolation,"  said  Dacre, 
wrapping  his  dressing-gown  round  him  and  crouching 
closer  to  the  fire.  "They  were  in  proportion  to  her 
penalty.  That  is  to  say,  if  I  am  correct  in  the  lady's 
identity." 

"  How  could  you  possibly  know  her  identity  ? " 

For  answer  Dacre  took  down  an  old  vellum-covered 
volume  from  the  shelf. 

"  Just  listen  to  this,"  said  he ;  "  it  is  in  the  French 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  but  I  will  give  a  rough 
translation  as  I  go.  You  will  judge  for  yourself 
whether  I  have  solved  the  riddle  or  not. 

"The  prisoner  was  brought  before  the  Grand  Cham- 
bers and  Tournelles  of  Parliament,  sitting  as  a  court  of 
justice,  charged  with  the  murder  of  Master  Dreux 
d'Aubray,  her  father,  and  of  her  two  brothers,  MM. 
d'Aubray,  one  being  civil  lieutenant,  and  the  other  a 
counsellor  of  Parliament.  In  person  it  seemed  hard 
to  believe  that  she  had  really  done  such  wicked  deeds, 
for  she  was  of  a  mild  appearance,  and  of  short  stature, 
with  a  fair  skiu  and  blue  eyes.  Yet  the  Court,  having 
found  her  guilty,  condemned  her  to  the  ordinary  and  to 
the  extraordinary  question  in  order  that  she  might  be 
forced  to  name  her  accomplices,  after  which  she  should 


THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL  15 

be  carried  in  a  cart  to  the  Place  de  Greve,  there  to 
have  her  head  cut  off,  her  body  being  afterwards  burned 
and  her  ashes  scattered  to  the  winds/ 

The  date  of  this  entry  is  July  16,  1676." 

"It  is  interesting,"  said  I,  "but  not  convincing. 
How  do  you  prove  the  two  women  to  be  the  same  ? " 

"I  am  coming  to  that.  The  narrative  goes  on  to 
tell  of  the  woman's  behaviour  when  questioned. 
'When  the  executioner  approached  her  she  recog- 
nized him  by  the  cords  which  he  held  in  his  hands, 
and  she  at  once  held  out  her  own  hands  to  him,  looking 
at  him  from  head  to  foot  without  uttering  a  word.' 
How's  that  ? " 

"  Yes,  it  was  so." 

*  *  She  gazed  without  wincing  upon  the  wooden 
horse  and  rings  which  had  twisted  so  many  limbs  and 
caused  so  many  shrieks  of  agony.  When  her  eyes  fell 
upon  the  three  pails  of  water,  which  were  aU  ready 
for  her,  she  said  with  a  smile,  "  All  that  water  must 
have  been  brought  here  for  the  purpose  of  drowning 
me,  Monsieur.  You  have  no  idea,  I  trust,  of  making  a 
person  of  my  small  stature  swallow  it  all."  '  Shall  I 
read  the  details  of  the  torture  ?  " 

"  No,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't." 

"  Here  is  a  sentence  which  must  surely  show  you 
that  what  is  here  recorded  is  the  very  scene  which  you 
have  gazed  upon  to-night  :  'The  good  Abbe  Pirot, 
unable  to  contemplate  the  agonies  which  were  suffered 
by  his  penitent,  had  hurried  from  the  room.'  Does 
that  convince  you  ?  " 

"  It  does  entirely.  There  can  be  no  question  that 
it  is  indeed  the  same  event.     But  who,  then,  is  this 


16  THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL 

lady  whose  appearance  was  so  attractive  and  whose  end 
was  so  horrible  ? " 

For  answer  Dacre  came  across  to  me,  and  placed 
the  small  lamp  upon  the  table  which  stood  by  my  bed. 
Lifting  up  the  iU-omened  fiUer,  he  turned  the  brass 
rim  so  that  the  light  fell  full  upon  it.  Seen  in  this 
way  the  engraving  seemed  clearer  than  on  the  night 
before. 

"  We  have  already  agreed  that  this  is  the  badge  of 
a  marquis  or  of  a  marquise,"  said  he.  "  We  have  also 
settled  that  the  last  letter  is  B." 

"  It  is  undoubtedly  so." 

"  I  now  suggest  to  you  that  the  other  letters  from 
left  to  right  are,  M,  M,  a  small  d,  A,  a  small  d,  and 
then  the  final  B." 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  that  you  are  right.  I  can  make 
out  the  two  small  d's  quite  plainly." 

"  What  I  have  read  to  you  to-night,"  said  Dacre, 
"  is  the  official  record  of  the  trial  of  Marie  Madeleine 
d'Aubray,  Marquise  de  Brinvilliers,  one  of  the  most 
famous  poisoners  and  murderers  of  all  time." 

I  sat  in  silence,  overwhelmed  at  the  extraordinary 
nature  of  the  incident,  and  at  the  completeness  of  the 
proof  with  which  Dacre  had  exposed  its  real  meaning. 
In  a  vague  way  I  remembered  some  details  of  the 
woman's  career,  her  unbridled  debauchery,  the  cold- 
blooded and  protracted  torture  of  her  sick  father,  the 
murder  of  her  brothers  for  motives  of  petty  gain.  I 
recollected  also  that  the  bravery  of  her  end  had  done 
something  to  atone  for  the  horror  of  her  life,  and 
that  all  Paris  had  sympathized  with  her  last  moments, 
and  blessed  her  as  a  martyr  within  a  few  days  of  the 


THE  LEATHER  FUNNEL  17 

time  when  they  had  cursed  her  as  a  murderess.  One 
objection,  and  one  only,  occurred  to  my  mind. 

"  How  came  her  initials  and  her  badge  of  rank 
upon  the  filler  ?  Surely  they  did  not  carry  their 
medieval  homage  to  the  nobility  to  the  point  of  deco- 
rating instruments  of  torture  with  their  titles  ? " 

"  I  was  puzzled  with  the  same  point,"  said  Dacre, 
"but  it  admits  of  a  simple  explanation.  The  case 
excited  extraordinary  interest  at  the  time,  and  nothing 
could  be  more  natural  than  that  La  Eeynie,  the  head 
of  the  police,  should  retain  this  filler  as  a  grim  sou- 
venir. It  was  not  often  that  a  marchioness  of  France 
underwent  the  extraordinary  question.  That  he  should 
engrave  her  initials  upon  it  for  the  information  of 
others  was  surely  a  very  ordinary  proceeding  upon  his 
part." 

"  And  this  ? "  I  asked,  pointing  to  the  marks  upon 
the  leathern  neck. 

"  She  was  a  cruel  tigress,"  said  Dacre,  as  he  turned 
away.  "  I  think  it  is  evident  that  like  other  tigresses 
her  teeth  were  both  strong  and  sharp." 


THE  BEETLE-HUNTER 

A  curious  experience?  said  the  Doctor.  Yes,  my 
friends,  I  have  had  one  very  curious  experience.  I 
never  expect  to  have  another,  for  it  is  against  all  doc- 
trines of  chances  that  two  such  events  would  befall 
any  one  man  in  a  single  lifetime.  You  may  believe 
me  or  not,  but  the  thing  happened  exactly  as  I  tell  it. 

I  had  just  become  a  medical  man,  but  I  had  not 
started  in  practice,  and  I  lived  in  rooms  in  Gower 
Street.  The  street  has  been  renumbered  since  then, 
but  it  was  in  the  only  house  which  has  a  bow-window, 
upon  the  left-hand  side  as  you  go  down  from  the  Metro- 
politan Station.  A  widow  named  Murchison  kept  the 
house  at  that  time,  and  she  had  three  medical  students 
and  one  engineer  as  lodgers.  I  occupied  the  top  room, 
which  was  the  cheapest,  but  cheap  as  it  was  it  was 
more  than  I  could  afford.  My  small  resources  were 
dwindling  away,  and  every  week  it  became  more  neces- 
sary that  I  should  find  something  to  do.  Yet  I  was 
very  unwilling  to  go  into  general  practice,  for  my  tastes 
were  all  in  the  direction  of  science,  and  especially  of 
zoology,  towards  which  I  had  always  a  strong  leaning. 
I  had  almost  given  the  fight  up  and  resigned  myself  to 
being  a  medical  drudge  for  life,  when  the  turning-point 
of  my  struggles  came  in  a  very  extraordinary  way. 


THE  BEETLE-HUNTER  19 

One  morning  I  had  picked  up  the  Standard  and 
was  glancing  over  its  contents.  There  was  a  complete 
absence  of  news,  and  I  was  about  to  toss  the  paper 
down  again,  when  my  eyes  were  caught  by  an  advertise- 
ment at  the  head  of  the  personal  column.  It  was 
worded  in  this  way : — 

Wanted  for  one  or  more  days  the  services  of  a 
medical  man.  It  is  essential  that  he  should  be  a  man 
of  strong  physique,  of  steady  nerves,  and  of  a  resolute 
nature.  Must  be  an  entomologist — coleopterist  pre- 
ferred. Apply,  in  person,  at  77b,  Brook  Street. 
Application  must  be  made  before  twelve  o'clock  to-day. 

Now,  I  have  already  said  that  I  was  devoted  to 
zoology.  Of  aU  branches  of  zoology,  the  study  of 
insects  was  the  most  attractive  to  me,  and  of  all 
insects  beetles  were  the  species  with  which  I  was 
most  familiar.  Butterfly  collectors  are  numerous,  but 
beetles  are  far  more  varied,  and  more  accessible  in  these 
islands  than  are  butterflies.  It  was  this  fact  which 
had  attracted  my  attention  to  them,  and  I  had  myself 
made  a  collection  which  numbered  some  hundred 
varieties.  As  to  the  other  requisites  of  the  advertise- 
ment, I  knew  that  my  nerves  could  be  depended  upon, 
and  I  had  won  the  weight -throwing  competition  at  the 
inter-hospital  sports.  Clearly,  I  was  the  very  man  for 
the  vacancy.  Within  five  minutes  of  my  having  read 
the  advertisement  I  was  in  a  cab  and  on  my  way  to 
Brook  Street. 

As  I  drove,  I  kept  turning  the  matter  over  in  my 
head  and  trying  to  make  a  guess  as  to  what  sort  of 
employment  it  could  be  which  needed  such  curious 
qualifications.    A  strong  physique,  a  resolute  nature. 


20  THE   BEETLE- HUNTER 

a  medical  training,  and  a  knowledge  of  beetles — what 
connection  could  there  be  between  these  various  requi- 
sites ?  And  then  there  was  the  disheartening  fact  that 
the  situation  was  not  a  permanent  one,  but  terminable 
from  day  to  day,  according  to  the  terms  of  the  advertise- 
ment. The  more  I  pondered  over  it  the  more  unintelli- 
gible did  it  become ;  but  at  the  end  of  my  meditations 
I  always  came  back  to  the  ground  fact  that,  come  what 
might,  I  had  nothing  to  lose,  that  I  was  completely  at 
the  end  of  my  resources,  and  that  I  was  ready  for  any 
adventure,  however  desperate,  which  would  put  a  few 
honest  sovereigns  into  my  pocket.  The  man  fears  to 
fail  who  has  to  pay  for  his  failure,  but  there  was  no 
penalty  which  Fortune  could  exact  from  me.  I  was 
like  the  gambler  with  empty  pockets,  who  is  still 
allowed  to  try  his  luck  with  the  others. 

No.  77b,  Brook  Street,  was  one  of  those  dingy  and 
yet  imposing  houses,  dun-coloured  and  flat-faced,  with 
the  intensely  respectable  and  solid  air  which  marks  the 
Georgian  builder.  As  I  alighted  from  the  cab,  a  young 
man  came  out  of  the  door  and  walked  swiftly  down  the 
street.  In  passing  me,  I  noticed  that  he  cast  an  in- 
quisitive and  somewhat  malevolent  glance  at  me,  and 
I  took  the  incident  as  a  good  omen,  for  his  appearance 
was  that  of  a  rejected  candidate,  and  if  he  resented 
my  application  it  meant  that  the  vacancy  was  not  yet 
filled  up.  Full  of  hope,  I  ascended  the  broad  steps  and 
rapped  with  the  heavy  knocker. 

A  footman  in  powder  and  livery  opened  the  door. 
Clearly  I  was  in  touch  with  people  of  wealth  and 
fashion. 

"  Yes,  sir  ? "  said  the  footmaa, 


THE  BEETLE-HUNTER  21 

"  I  came  in  answer  to " 

"  Quite  so,  sir,"  said  the  footman.  "  Lord  Linchmere 
will  see  you  at  once  in  the  library." 

Lord  Linchmere !  I  had  vaguely  heard  the  name, 
but  could  not  for  the  instant  recall  anything  about  him. 
Following  the  footman,  I  was  shown  into  a  large,  book- 
Hned  room  in  which  there  was  seated  behind  a  writing- 
desk  a  small  man  with  a  pleasant,  clean-shaven,  mobile 
face,  and  long  hair  shot  with  grey,  brushed  back  from 
his  forehead.  He  looked  me  up  and  down  with  a 
very  shrewd,  penetrating  glance,  holding  the  card 
which  the  footman  had  given  him  in  his  right  hand. 
Then  he  smiled  pleasantly,  and  I  felt  that  externally 
at  any  rate  I  possessed  the  qualifications  which  he 
desired. 

"You  have  come  in  answer  to  my  advertisement, 
Dr.  Hamilton  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Do  you  fulfil  the  conditions  which  are  there  laid 
down?" 

"  I  believe  that  I  do." 

"  You  are  a  powerful  man,  or  so  I  should  judge 
from  your  appearance." 

"  I  think  that  I  am  fairly  strong." 

"And  resolute?" 

*  I  believe  so." 

"  Have  you  ever  known  what  it  was  to  be  exposed 
to  imminent  danger  ? " 

"  No,  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  have." 

"  But  you  think  you  would  be  prompt  and  cool  at 
such  a  time  ? " 

M I  hope  so." 


22  THE  BEETLE-HUNTER 

"Well,  I  believe  that  you  would.  I  have  the  more 
confidence  in  you  because  you  do  not  pretend  to  be 
certain  as  to  what  you  would  do  in  a  position  that  was 
new  to  you.  My  impression  is  that,  so  far  as  personal 
qualities  go,  you  are  the  very  man  of  whom  I  am  in 
search.  That  being  settled,  we  may  pass  on  to  the 
next  point." 

"  Which  is  ? " 

"  To  talk  to  me  about  beetles." 

I  looked  across  to  see  if  he  was  joking,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  he  was  leaning  eagerly  forward  across  his 
desk,  and  there  was  an  expression  of  something  like 
anxiety  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  you  do  not  know  about  beetles/' 
he  cried. 

"  On  the  contrary,  sir,  it  is  the  one  scientific  subject 
about  which  I  feel  that  I  really  do  know  something." 

"I  am  overjoyed  to  hear  it.  Please  talk  to  me 
about  beetles." 

I  talked.  I  do  not  profess  to  have  said  anything 
original  upon  the  subject,  but  I  gave  a  short  sketch  of 
the  characteristics  of  the  beetle,  and  ran  over  the  more 
common  species,  with  some  allusions  to  the  specimens 
in  my  own  Httle  collection  and  to  the  article  upon 
"Burying  Beetles"  which  I  had  contributed  to  the 
Journal  of  Entomological  Science, 

"  What !  not  a  collector  ? "  cried  Lord  Linchmere. 
"  You  don't  mean  that  you  are  yourself  a  collector  ? " 
His  eyes  danced  with  pleasure  at  the  thought. 

"  You  are  certainly  the  very  man  in  London  for  my 
purpose.  I  thought  that  among  five  millions  of  people 
there  must  be  such  a  man,  but  the  difficulty  is  to  lay 


THE  BEETLE-HUNTER  23 

one's  hands  upon  him.  I  have  been  extraordinarily 
fortunate  in  finding  you." 

He  rang  a  gong  upon  the  table,  and  the  footman 
entered. 

"  Ask  Lady  Rossiter  to  have  the  goodness  to  step 
this  way,"  said  his  lordship,  and  a  few  moments  later 
the  lady  was  ushered  into  the  room.  She  was  a  small, 
middle-aged  woman,  very  like  Lord  Linchmere  in 
appearance,  with  the  same  quick,  alert  features  and 
grey-black  hair.  The  expression  of  anxiety,  however, 
which  I  had  observed  upon  his  face  was  very  much 
more  marked  upon  hers.  Some  great  grief  seemed  to 
have  cast  its  shadow  over  her  features.  As  Lord  Linch- 
mere presented  me  she  turned  her  face  full  upon  me, 
and  I  was  shocked  to  observe  a  half-healed  scar  extend- 
ing for  two  inches  over  her  right  eyebrow.  It  was 
partly  concealed  by  plaster,  but  none  the  less  I  could 
see  that  it  had  been  a  serious  wound  and  not  long 
inflicted. 

"Dr.  Hamilton  is  the  very  man  for  our  purpose, 
Evelyn,"  said  Lord  Linchmere.  "He  is  actually  a 
collector  of  beetles,  and  he  has  written  articles  upon 
the  subject." 

"  Really ! "  said  Lady  Rossiter.  "  Then  you  must 
have  heard  of  my  husband.  Every  one  who  knows 
anything  about  beetles  must  have  heard  of  Sir  Thomas 
Rossiter." 

For  the  first  time  a  thin  little  ray  of  light  began  to 
break  into  the  obscure  business.  Here,  at  last,  was  a 
connection  between  these  people  and  beetles.  Sir 
Thomas  Rossiter — he  was  the  greatest  authority  upon 
the  subject  in  the  world.    He  had  made  it  his  life-long 


24  THE  BEETLE-HUNTER 

study,  and  had  written  a  most  exhaustive  work  upon 
it.  I  hastened  to  assure  her  that  I  had  read  and 
appreciated  it. 

"  Have  you  met  my  husband  ? "  she  asked. 

*  No,  I  have  not." 

"But  you  shall,"  said  Lord  Linchmere,  with 
decision. 

The  lady  was  standing  beside  the  desk,  and  she  put 
her  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  It  was  obvious  to  me  as 
I  saw  their  faces  together  that  they  were  brother  and 
sister. 

"  Are  you  really  prepared  for  this,  Charles  ?  It  is 
noble  of  you,  but  you  fill  me  with  fears."  Her  voice 
quavered  with  apprehension,  and  he  appeared  to  me  to 
be  equally  moved,  though  he  was  making  strong  efforts 
to  conceal  his  agitation. 

"  Yes,  yes,  dear ;  it  is  all  settled,  it  is  all  decided ; 
in  fact,  there  is  no  other  possible  way,  that  I  can  see." 

"  There  is  one  obvious  way." 

"  No,  no,  Evelyn,  I  shall  never  abandon  you — never. 
It  will  come  right — depend  upon  it ;  it  will  come  right, 
and  surely  it  looks  like  the  interference  of  Providence 
that  so  perfect  an  instrument  should  be  put  into  our 
hands." 

My  position  was  embarrassing,  for  I  felt  that  for  the 
instant  they  had  forgotten  my  presence.  But  Lord 
Linchmere  came  back  suddenly  to  me  and  to  my 
engagement. 

"  The  business  for  which  I  want  you,  Dr.  Hamilton, 
is  that  you  should  put  yourself  absolutely  at  my  dis- 
posal. I  wish  you  to  come  for  a  short  journey  with 
me,  to  remain  always  at  my  side,  and  to  promise  to  do 


THE  BEETLE-HtfNTER  25 

without  question  whatever  I  may  ask  you,  however 
unreasonable  it  may  appear  to  you  to  be." 

"  That  is  a  good  deal  to  ask,"  said  I. 

"  Unfortunately  I  cannot  put  it  more  plainly,  for  I 
do  not  myself  know  what  turn  matters  may  take.  You 
may  be  sure,  however,  that  you  will  not  be  asked  to  do 
anything  which  your  conscience  does  not  approve ;  and 
I  promise  you  that,  when  all  is  over,  you  will  be  proud 
to  have  been  concerned  in  so  good  a  work." 

"  If  it  ends  happily,"  said  the  lady. 

"  Exactly ;  if  it  ends  happily,"  his  lordship  repeated. 

"And  terms?"  I  asked. 

"  Twenty  pounds  a  day." 

I  was  amazed  at  the  sum,  and  must  have  showed 
my  surprise  upon  my  features. 

"  It  is  a  rare  combination  of  qualities,  as  must  have 
struck  you  when  you  first  read  the  advertisement," 
said  Lord  Linchmere ;  "  such  varied  gifts  may  well 
command  a  high  return,  and  I  do  not  conceal  from  you 
that  your  duties  might  be  arduous  or  even  dangerous. 
Besides,  it  is  possible  that  one  or  two  days  may  bring 
the  matter  to  an  end." 

"  Please  God ! "  sighed  his  sister. 

"  So  now,  Dr.  Hamilton,  may  I  rely  upon  your 
aid  ? " 

"  Most  undoubtedly,"  said  I.  "  You  have  only  to 
tell  me  what  my  duties  are." 

"  Your  first  duty  will  be  to  return  to  your  home. 
You  will  pack  up  whatever  you  may  need  for  a  short 
visit  to  the  country.  We  start  together  from  Padding- 
ton  Station  at  3.40  this  afternoon." 

•  Do  we  go  far  ? " 


26  THE  BEETLE-HUNTER 

"  As  far  as  Pangbourne.  Meet  me  at  the  bookstall 
at  3.30.  I  shall  have  the  tickets.  Good-bye,  Dr. 
Hamilton !  And,  by  the  way,  there  are  two  things 
which  I  should  be  very  glad  if  you  would  bring  with 
you,  in  case  you  have  them.  One  is  your  case  for 
collecting  beetles,  and  the  other  is  a  stick,  and  the 
thicker  and  heavier  the  better." 

You  may  imagine  that  I  had  plenty  to  think  of 
from  the  time  that  I  left  Brook  Street  until  I  set  out 
to  meet  Lord  Linchmere  at  Paddington.  The  whole 
fantastic  business  kept  arranging  and  re-arranging  itself 
in  kaleidoscopic  forms  inside  my  brain,  until  I  had 
thought  out  a  dozen  explanations,  each  of  them  more 
grotesquely  improbable  than  the  last.  And  yet  I  felt 
that  the  truth  must  be  something  grotesquely  improb- 
able also.  At  last  I  gave  up  aU  attempts  at  finding  a 
solution,  and  contented  myself  with  exactly  carrying 
out  the  instructions  which  I  had  received.  With  a 
hand  valise,  specimen-case,  and  a  loaded  cane,  I  was 
waiting  at  the  Paddington  bookstall  when  Lord  Linch- 
mere arrived.  He  was  an  even  smaller  man  than  I 
had  thought — frail  and  peaky,  with  a  manner  which 
was  more  nervous  than  it  had  been  in  the  morning. 
He  wore  a  long,  thick  travelling  ulster,  and  I  observed 
that  he  carried  a  heavy  blackthorn  cudgel  in  his  hand. 

"  I  have  the  tickets,"  said  he,  leading  the  way  up 
the  platform.  "  This  is  our  train.  I  have  engaged  a 
carriage,  for  I  am  particularly  anxious  to  impress  one 
or  two  things  upon  you  while  we  travel  down." 

And  yet  all  that  he  had  to  impress  upon  me  might 
have  been  said  in  a  sentence,  for  it  was  that  I  was  to 


THE  BEETLE-HUNTER  27 

remember  that  I  was  there  as  a  protection  to  himself, 
and  that  I.  was  not  on  any  consideration  to  leave  him 
for  an  instant.  This  he  repeated  again  and  again  as 
our  journey  drew  to  a  close,  with  an  insistence  which 
showed  that  his  nerves  were  thoroughly  shaken. 

"Yes,"  he  said  at  last,  in  answer  to  my  looks 
rather  than  to  my  words,  "  I  am  nervous,  Dr.  Hamilton. 
I  have  always  been  a  timid  man,  and  my  timidity 
depends  upon  my  frail  physical  health.  But  my  soul 
is  firm,  and  I  can  bring  myself  up  to  face  a  danger 
which  a  less  nervous  man  might  shrink  from.  What 
I  am  doing  now  is  done  from  no  compulsion,  but 
entirely  from  a  sense  of  duty,  and  yet  it  is,  beyond 
doubt,  a  desperate  risk.  If  things  should  go  wrong, 
I  will  have  some  claims  to  the  title  of  martyr." 

This  eternal  reading  of  riddles  was  too  much  for 
me.    I  felt  that  I  must  put  a  term  to  it. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  very  much  better,  sir,  if  you 
were  to  trust  me  entirely,"  said  I.  "  It  is  impossible 
for  me  to  act  effectively,  when  I  do  not  know  what 
are  the  objects  which  we  have  in  view,  or  even  where 
we  are  going." 

"  Oh,  as  to  where  we  are  going,  there  need  be  no 
mystery  about  that,"  said  he ;  "  we  are  going  to  Dela- 
mere  Court,  the  residence  of  Sir  Thomas  Kossiter,  with 
whose  work  you  are  so  conversant.  As  to  the  exact 
object  of  our  visit,  I  do  not  know  that  at  this  stage  of 
the  proceedings  anything  would  be  gained,  Dr.  Hamilton, 
by  my  taking  you  into  my  complete  confidence.  I  may 
tell  you  that  we  are  acting — I  say  '  we/  because  my 
sister,  Lady  Kossiter,  takes  the  same  view  as  myself — 
with  the  one  object  of  preventing  anything  in  the 


28  THE  BEETLE-fiUNTEH 

nature  of  a  family  scandal.  That  being  so,  you  can 
understand  that  I  am  loth  to  give  any  explanations 
which  are  not  absolutely  necessary.  It  would  be  a 
different  matter,  Dr.  Hamilton,  if  I  were  asking  your 
advice.  As  matters  stand,  it  is  only  your  active  help 
which  I  need,  and  I  will  indicate  to  you  from  time  to 
time  how  you  can  best  give  it." 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  said,  and  a  poor  man 
can  put  up  with  a  good  deal  for  twenty  pounds  a  day, 
but  I  felt  none  the  less  that  Lord  Linchmere  was 
acting  rather  scurvily  towards  me.  He  wished  to 
convert  me  into  a  passive  tool,  like  the  blackthorn  in 
his  hand.  With  his  sensitive  disposition  I  could 
imagine,  however,  that  scandal  would  be  abhorrent  to 
him,  and  I  realized  that  he  would  not  take  me  into 
his  confidence  until  no  other  course  was  open  to  him. 
I  must  trust  to  my  own  eyes  and  ears  to  solve  the 
mystery,  but  I  had  every  confidence  that  I  should  not 
trust  to  them  in  vain. 

Delamere  Court  lies  a  good  five  miles  from  Pang- 
bourne  Station,  and  we  drove  for  that  distance  in  an 
open  fly.  Lord  Linchmere  sat  in  deep  thought  during 
the  time,  and  he  never  opened  his  mouth  until  we 
were  close  to  our  destination.  When  he  did  speak 
it  was  to  give  me  a  piece  of  information  which  sur- 
prised me. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  not  aware,"  said  he,  "  that  I  am 
a  medical  man  like  yourself? " 

"  No,  sir,  I  did  not  know  it." 

"  Yes,  I  qualified  in  my  younger  days,  when  there 
were  several  lives  between  me  and  the  peerage.  I 
have  not  had  occasion  to  practise,  but  I  have  found  it 


THE  BEETLE-HUNTER  29 

a  useful  education,  all  the  same.  I  never  regretted 
the  years  which  I  devoted  to  medical  study.  These 
are  the  gates  of  Delamere  Court." 

We  had  come  to  two  high  pillars  crowned  with 
heraldic  monsters  which  flanked  the  opening  of  a 
winding  avenue.  Over  the  laurel  bushes  and  rhodo- 
dendrons I  could  see  a  long,  many-gabled  mansion, 
girdled  with  ivy,  and  toned  to  the  warm,  cheery, 
mellow  glow  of  old  brick-work.  My  eyes  were  still 
fixed  in  admiration  upon  this  delightful  house  when 
my  companion  plucked  nervously  at  my  sleeve. 

"  Here's  Sir  Thomas,"  he  whispered.  "  Please  talk 
beetle  all  you  can." 

A  tall,  thin  figure,  curiously  angular  and  bony,  had 
emerged  through  a  gap  in  the  hedge  of  laurels.  In  his 
hand  he  held  a  spud,  and  he  wore  gauntleted  gardener's 
gloves.  A  broad-brimmed,  grey  hat  cast  his  face  into 
shadow,  but  it  struck  me  as  exceedingly  austere,  with 
an  ill-nourished  beard  and  harsh,  irregular  features. 
The  fly  pulled  up  and  Lord  Linchmere  sprang  out. 

"  My  dear  Thomas,  how  are  you  ? "  said  he,  heartily. 

But  the  heartiness  was  by  no  means  reciprocal. 
The  owner  of  the  grounds  glared  at  me  over  his 
brother-in-law's  shoulder,  and  I  caught  broken  scraps 
of  sentences  —  "well-known  wishes  .  .  .  hatred  of 
strangers  .  .  .  unjustifiable  intrusion  .  .  .  perfectly 
inexcusable."  Then  there  was  a  muttered  explanation, 
and  the  two  of  them  came  over  together  to  the  side  of 
the  fly. 

"  Let  me  present  you  to  Sir  Thomas  Eossiter, 
Dr.  Hamilton,"  said  Lord  Linchmere.  "  You  will  find 
that  you  have  a  strong  community  of  tastes." 


30  THE  BEETLE-HUNTER 

I  bowed.  Sir  Thomas  stood  very  stiffly,  looking  at 
me  severely  from  under  the  broad  brim  of  his  hat. 

"  Lord  Linchmere  tells  me  that  you  know  something 
about  beetles"  said  he.  "What  do  you  know  about 
beetles  ? " 

"  I  know  what  I  have  learned  from  your  work  upon 
the  coleoptera,  Sir  Thomas,"  I  answered. 

u  Give  me  the  names  of  the  better-known  species 
of  the  British  scaraboei,"  said  he. 

I  had  not  expected  an  examination,  but  fortunately 
I  was  ready  for  one.  My  answers  seemed  to  please 
him,  for  his  stern  features  relaxed. 

"You  appear  to  have  read  my  book  with  some 
profit,  sir,"  said  he.  "It  is  a  rare  thing  for  me  to 
meet  any  one  who  takes  an  intelligent  interest  in  such 
matters.  People  can  find  time  for  such  trivialities  as 
sport  or  society,  and  yet  the  beetles  are  overlooked. 
I  can  assure  you  that  the  greater  part  of  the  idiots  in 
this  part  of  the  country  are  unaware  that  I  have  ever 
written  a  book  at  all — I,  the  first  man  who  ever  de- 
scribed the  true  function  of  the  elytra.  I  am  glad  to 
see  you,  sir,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  can  show  you 
some  specimens  which  will  interest  you."  He  stepped 
into  the  fly  and  drove  up  with  us  to  the  house,  ex- 
pounding to  me  as  we  went  some  recent  researches 
which  he  had  made  into  the  anatomy  of  the  lady-bird. 

I  have  said  that  Sir  Thomas  Kossiter  wore  a  large 
hat  drawn  down  over  his  brows.  As  he  entered  the 
hall  he  uncovered  himself,  and  I  was  at  once  aware  of 
a  singular  characteristic  which  the  hat  had  concealed. 
His  forehead,  which  was  naturally  high,  and  higher 
still  on  account  of  receding  hair,  was  in  a  continual 


THE  BEETLE-HUNTER  31 

state  of  movement.  Some  nervous  weakness  kept  the 
muscles  in  a  constant  spasm,  which  sometimes  produced 
a  mere  twitching  and  sometimes  a  curious  rotary  move- 
ment unlike  anything  which  I  had  ever  seen  before. 
It  was  strikingly  visible  as  he  turned  towards  us  after 
entering  the  study,  and  seemed  the  more  singular  from 
the  contrast  with  the  hard,  steady  grey  eyes  which 
looked  out  from  underneath  those  palpitating  brows. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  he,  "  that  Lady  Kossiter  is  not 
here  to  help  me  to  welcome  you.  By  the  way,  Charles, 
did  Evelyn  say  anything  about  the  date  of  her  return  ?  " 

"  She  wished  to  stay  in  town  for  a  few  more  days," 
said  Lord  Linchmere.  "You  know  how  ladies'  social 
duties  accumulate  if  they  have  been  for  some  time  in 
the  country.  My  sister  has  many  old  friends  in  London 
at  present." 

"  Well,  she  is  her  own  mistress,  and  I  should  not 
wish  to  alter  her  plans,  but  I  shall  be  glad  when  I 
see  her  again.  It  is  very  lonely  here  without  her 
company." 

"  I  was  afraid  that  you  might  find  it  so,  and  that 
was  partly  why  I  ran  down.  My  young  friend,  Dr. 
Hamilton,  is  so  much  interested  in  the  subject  which 
you  have  made  your  own,  that  I  thought  you  would 
not  mind  his  accompanying  me." 

"  I  lead  a  retired  life,  Dr.  Hamilton,  and  my  aversion 
to  strangers  grows  upon  me,"  said  our  host.  "  I  have 
sometimes  thought  that  my  nerves  are  not  so  good  as 
they  were.  My  travels  in  search  of  beetles  in  my 
younger  days  took  me  into  many  malarious  and  un- 
healthy places.  But  a  brother  coleopterist  like  yourself 
is  always  a  welcome  guest,  and  I  shall  be  delighted  if 


32  THE  BEETLE-HUNTER 

you  will  look  over  my  collection,  which  I  think  that 
I  may  without  exaggeration  describe  as  the  best  in 
Europe." 

And  so  no  doubt  it  was.  He  had  a  huge  oaken 
cabinet  arranged  in  shallow  drawers,  and  here,  neatly 
ticketed  and  classified,  were  beetles  from  every  corner 
of  the  earth,  black,  brown,  blue,  green,  and  mottled. 
Every  now  and  then  as  he  swept  his  hand  over  the 
lines  and  lines  of  impaled  insects  he  would  catch  up 
some  rare  specimen,  and,  handling  it  with  as  much 
delicacy  and  reverence  as  if  it  were  a  precious  relic, 
he  would  hold  forth  upon  its  peculiarities  and  the 
circumstances  under  which  it  came  into  his  possession. 
It  was  evidently  an  unusual  thing  for  him  to  meet  with 
a  sympathetic  listener,  and  he  talked  and  talked  until 
the  spring  evening  had  deepened  into  night,  and  the 
gong  announced  that  it  was  time  to  dress  for  dinner. 
All  the  time  Lord  Linchmere  said  nothing,  but  he 
stood  at  his  brother-in-law's  elbow,  and  I  caught  him 
continually  shooting  curious  little,  questioning  glances 
into  his  face.  And  his  own  features  expressed  some 
strong  emotion,  apprehension,  sympathy,  expectation: 
I  seemed  to  read  them  all.  I  was  sure  that  Lord 
Linchmere  was  fearing  something  and  awaiting  some- 
thing, but  what  that  something  might  be  I  could  not 
imagine. 

The  evening  passed  quietly  but  pleasantly,  and  I 
should  have  been  entirely  at  my  ease  if  it  had  not  been 
for  that  continual  sense  of  tension  upon  the  part  of 
Lord  Linchmere.  As  to  our  host,  I  found  that  he 
improved  upon  acquaintance.  He  spoke  constantly 
with  affection  of  his  absent  wife,  and  also  of  his  little 


THE  BEETLE-HUNTER  33 

son,  who  had  recently  been  sent  to  school.  The  house, 
he  said,  was  not  the  same  without  them.  If  it  were 
not  for  his  scientific  studies,  he  did  not  know  how  he 
could  get  through  the  days.  After  dinner  we  smoked 
for  some  time  in  the  billiard-room,  and  finally  went 
early  to  bed. 

And  then  it  was  that,  for  the  first  time,  the  suspicion 
that  Lord  Linchmere  was  a  lunatic  crossed  my  mind. 
He  followed  me  into  my  bedroom,  when  our  host  had 
retired. 

"  Doctor,"  said  he,  speaking  in  a  low,  hurried  voice, 
"  you  must  come  with  me.  You  must  spend  the  night 
in  my  bedroom." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  I  prefer  not  to  explain.  But  this  is  part  of  your 
duties.  My  room  is  close  by,  and  you  can  return  to 
your  own  before  the  servant  calls  you  in  the  morning." 

"But  why?"  I  asked. 

"Because  I  am  nervous  of  being  alone,"  said  he. 
"That's  the  reason,  since  you  must  have  a  reason." 

It  seemed  rank  lunacy,  but  the  argument  of  those 
twenty  pounds  would  overcome  many  objections.  I 
followed  him  to  his  room. 

"Well,"  said  I,  "there's  only  room  for  one  in 
that  bed." 

"  Only  one  shall  occupy  it,"  said  he. 

"And  the  other?" 

"  Must  remain,  on  watch." 

"  Why  ? "  said  I.  "  One  would  think  you  expected 
to  be  attacked." 

"Perhaps  I  do." 

"  In  that  case,  why  not  lock  your  door  ? " 

D 


34  THE  BEETLE-HUNTER 

"  Perhaps  I  want  to  be  attacked." 

It  looked  more  and  more  like  lunacy.  However, 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  submit.  I  shrugged 
my  shoulders  and  sat  down  in  the  arm-chair  beside  the 
empty  fireplace. 

"  I  am  to  remain  on  watch,  then  ? "  said  I,  ruefully. 

"  We  will  divide  the  night.  If  you  will  watch  until 
two,  I  will  watch  the  remainder.,, 

"  Very  good." 

"  Call  me  at  two  o'clock,  then/1 

"I  will  do  so." 

"  Keep  your  ears  open,  and  if  you  hear  any  sounds 
wake  me  instantly — instantly,  you  hear  ? " 

"  You  can  rely  upon  it."  I  tried  to  look  as  solemn 
as  he  did. 

"And  for  God's  sake  don't  go  to  sleep,"  said  he, 
and  so,  taking  off  only  his  coat,  he  threw  the  coverlet 
over  him  and  settled  down  for  the  night. 

It  was  a  melancholy  vigil,  and  made  more  so  by 
my  own  sense  of  its  folly.  Supposing  that  by  any 
chance  Lord  Linchmere  had  cause  to  suspect  that  he 
was  subject  to  danger  in  the  house  of  Sir  Thomas 
Eossiter,  why  on  earth  could  he  not  lock  his  door  and 
so  protect  himself?  His  own  answer  that  he  might 
wish  to  be  attacked  was  absurd.  Why  should  he 
possibly  wish  to  be  attacked  ?  And  who  would  wish 
to  attack  him  ?  Clearly,  Lord  Linchmere  was  suffering 
from  some  singular  delusion,  and  the  result  was  that 
on  an  imbecile  pretext  I  was  to  be  deprived  of  my 
night's  rest.  Still,  however  absurd,  I  was  determined 
to  carry  out  his  injunctions  to  the  letter  as  long  as  I 
was  in  his  employment.    I  sat  therefore  beside  the 


THE  BEETLE-HUNTER  35 

empty  fireplace,  and  listened  to  a  sonorous  chiming 
clock  somewhere  down  the  passage,  which  gurgled  and 
struck  every  quarter  of  an  hour.  It  was  an  endless 
vigil.  Save  for  that  single  clock,  an  absolute  silence 
reigned  throughout  the  great  house.  A  small  lamp 
stood  on  the  table  at  my  elbow,  throwing  a  circle  of 
light  round  my  chair,  but  leaving  the  corners  of  the 
room  draped  in  shadow.  On  the  bed  Lord  Linchmere 
was  breathing  peacefully.  I  envied  him  his  quiet  sleep, 
and  again  and  again  my  own  eyelids  drooped,  but  every 
time  my  sense  of  duty  came  to  my  help,  and  I  sat  up, 
rubbing  my  eyes  and  pinching  myself  with  a  determina- 
tion to  see  my  irrational  watch  to  an  end. 

And  I  did  so.  From  down  the  passage  came  the 
chimes  of  two  o'clock,  and  I  laid  my  hand  upon  the 
shoulder  of  the  sleeper.  Instantly  he  was  sitting  up, 
with  an  expression  of  the  keenest  interest  upon  his 
face. 

"  You  have  heard  something  ? " 

"  No,  sir.    It  is  two  o'clock." 

"  Very  good.    I  will  watch.     You  can  go  to  sleep." 

I  lay  down  under  the  coverlet  as  he  had  done,  and 
was  soon  unconscious.  My  last  recollection  was  of 
that  circle  of  lamplight,  and  of  the  small,  hunched-up 
figure  and  strained,  anxious  face  of  Lord  Linchmere  in 
the  centre  of  it. 

How  long  I  slept  I  do  not  know ;  but  I  was  suddenly 
aroused  by  a  sharp  tug  at  my  sleeve.  The  room  was 
in  darkness,  but  a  hot  smell  of  oil  told  me  that  the 
lamp  had  only  that  instant  been  extinguished. 

"  Quick !  Quick ! "  said  Lord  Linchmere's  voice  in 
my  ear. 


36  THE  BEETLE-HUNTER 

I  sprang  out  of  bed,  he  still  dragging  at  my  arm. 

"  Over  here ! "  he  whispered,  and  pulled  me  into  a 
corner  of  the  room.     "  Hush !  Listen ! " 

In  the  silence  of  the  night  I  could  distinctly  hear 
that  someone  was  coming  down  the  corridor.  It  was  a 
stealthy  step,  faint  and  intermittent,  as  of  a  man  who 
paused  cautiously  after  every  stride.  Sometimes  for 
half  a  minute  there  was  no  sound,  and  then  came  the 
shuffle  and  creak  which  told  of  a  fresh  advance.  My 
companion  was  trembling  with  excitement.  His  hand 
which  still  held  my  sleeve  twitched  like  a  branch  in 
the  wind. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"It's  he!" 

"Sir  Thomas?" 

"  Yes." 

"What  does  he  want?" 

"  Hush !     Do  nothing  until  I  tell  you." 

I  was  conscious  now  that  someone  was  trying  the 
door.  There  was  the  faintest  little  rattle  from  the 
handle,  and  then  I  dimly  saw  a  thin  slit  of  subdued 
light.  There  was  a  lamp  burning  somewhere  far  down 
the  passage,  and  it  just  sufficed  to  make  the  outside 
visible  from  the  darkness  of  our  room.  The  greyish 
slit  grew  broader  and  broader,  very  gradually,  very 
gently,  and  then  outlined  against  it  I  saw  the  dark 
figure  of  a  man.  He  was  squat  and  crouching,  with 
the  silhouette  of  a  bulky  and  misshapen  dwarf. 
Slowly  the  door  swung  open  with  this  ominous  shape 
framed  in  the  centre  of  it.  And  then,  in  an  instant 
the  crouching  figure  shot  up,  there  was  a  tiger  spring 
across  the  room,  and  thud,  thud,  thud,  came  three 


THE  BEETLE-HUNTEB  37 

tremendous  blows  from  some  heavy  object  upon  the 
bed. 

I  was  so  paralyzed  with  amazement  that  I  stood 
motionless  and  staring  until  I  was  aroused  by  a  yell 
for  help  from  my  companion.  The  open  door  shed 
enough  light  for  me  to  see  the  outline  of  things,  and 
there  was  little  Lord  Linchmere  with  his  arms  round 
the  neck  of  his  brother-in-law,  holding  bravely  on  to 
him  like  a  game  bull-terrier  with  its  teeth  into  a  gaunt 
deerhound.  The  tall,  bony  man  dashed  himself  about, 
writhing  round  and  round  to  get  a  grip  upon  his  assail- 
ant ;  but  the  other,  clutching  on  from  behind,  still  kept 
his  hold,  though  his  shrill,  frightened  cries  showed  how 
unequal  he  felt  the  contest  to  be.  I  sprang  to  the 
rescue,  and  the  two  of  us  managed  to  throw  Sir  Thomas 
to  the  ground,  though  he  made  his  teeth  meet  in  my 
shoulder.  With  all  my  youth  and  weight  and  strength, 
it  was  a  desperate  struggle  before  we  could  master  his 
frenzied  struggles ;  but  at  last  we  secured  his  arms  with 
the  waist-cord  of  the  dressing-gown  which  he  was  wear- 
ing. I  was  holding  his  legs  while  Lord  Linchmere  was 
endeavouring  to  relight  the  lamp,  when  there  came  the 
pattering  of  many  feet  in  the  passage,  and  the  butler 
and  two  footmen,  who  had  been  alarmed  by  the  cries, 
rushed  into  the  room.  With  their  aid  we  had  no 
further  difficulty  in  seouring  our  prisoner,  who  lay 
foaming  and  glaring  upon  the  ground.  One  glance  at 
his  face  was  enough  to  prove  that  he  was  a  dangerous 
maniac,  while  the  short,  heavy  hammer  which  lay  beside 
the  bed  showed  how  murderous  had  been  his  intentions. 

"  Do  not  use  any  violence ! "  said  Lord  Linchmere, 
as  we  raised  the  struggling  man  to  his  feet.    "  He  will 


38  THE  BEETLE-HUNTER 

have  a  period  of  stupor  after  this  excitement.  I  believe 
that  it  is  coming  on  already."  As  he  spoke  the  con- 
vulsions became  less  violent,  and  the  madman's  head 
fell  forward  upon  his  breast,  as  if  he  were  overcome  by 
sleep.  "We  led  him  down  the  passage  and  stretched 
him  upon  his  own  bed,  where  he  lay  unconscious, 
breathing  heavily. 

"  Two  of  you  will  watch  him,"  said  Lord  Linchmere. 
"  And  now,  Dr.  Hamilton,  if  you  will  return  with  me 
to  my  room,  I  will  give  you  the  explanation  which  my 
horror  of  scandal  has  perhaps  caused  me  to  delay  too 
long.  Come  what  may,  you  will  never  have  cause  to 
regret  your  share  in  this  night's  work. 

"  The  case  may  be  made  clear  in  a  very  few  words," 
he  continued,  when  we  were  alone.  "  My  poor  brother- 
in-law  is  one  of  the  best  fellows  upon  earth,  a  loving 
husband  and  an  estimable  father,  but  he  comes  from  a 
stock  which  is  deeply  tainted  with  insanity.  He  has 
more  than  once  had  homicidal  outbreaks,  which  are  the 
more  painful  because  his  inclination  is  always  to  attack 
the  very  person  to  whom  he  is  most  attached.  His 
son  was  sent  away  to  school  to  avoid  this  danger,  and 
then  came  an  attempt  upon  my  sister,  his  wife,  from 
which  she  escaped  with  injuries  that  you  may  have 
observed  when  you  met  her  in  London.  You  under- 
stand that  he  knows  nothing  of  the  matter  when  he  is 
in  his  sound  senses,  and  would  ridicule  the  suggestion 
that  he  could  under  any  circumstances  injure  those 
whom  he  loves  so  dearly.  It  is  often,  as  you  know,  a 
characteristic  of  such  maladies  that  it  is  absolutely 
impossible  to  convince  the  man  who  suffers  from  them 
of  their  existence. 


THE  BEETLE-HUNTER  39 

"  Our  great  object  was,  of  course,  to  get  him  under 
restraint  before  he  could  stain  his  hands  with  blood, 
but  the  matter  was  full  of  difficulty.  He  is  a  recluse 
in  his  habits,  and  would  not  see  any  medical  man. 
Besides,  it  was  necessary  for  our  purpose  that  the 
medical  man  should  convince  himself  of  his  insanity ; 
and  he  is  sane  as  you  or  I,  save  on  these  very  rare 
occasions.  But,  fortunately,  before  he  has  these  attacks 
he  always  shows  certain  premonitory  symptoms,  which 
are  providential  danger-signals,  warning  us  to  be  upon 
our  guard.  The  chief  of  these  is  that  nervous  con- 
tortion of  the  forehead  which  you  must  have  observed. 
This  is  a  phenomenon  which  always  appears  from  three 
to  four  days  before  his  attacks  of  frenzy.  The  moment 
it  showed  itself  his  wife  came  into  town  on  some  pre- 
text, and  took  refuge  in  my  house  in  Brook  Street. 

"  It  remained  for  me  to  convince  a  medical  man  of 
Sir  Thomas's  insanity,  without  which  it  was  impossible 
to  put  him  where  he  could  do  no  harm.  The  first  pro- 
blem was  how  to  get  a  medical  man  into  his  house.  I 
bethought  me  of  his  interest  in  beetles,  and  his  love  for 
any  one  who  shared  his  tastes.  I  advertised,  therefore, 
and  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  in  you  the  very  man 
I  wanted.  A  stout  companion  was  necessary,  for  I 
knew  that  the  lunacy  could  only  be  proved  by  a  mur- 
derous assault,  and  I  had  every  reason  to  believe  that 
that  assault  would  be  made  upon  myself,  since  he  had 
the  warmest  regard  for  me  in  his  moments  of  sanity. 
I  think  your  intelligence  will  supply  all  the  rest.  I 
did  not  know  that  the  attack  would  come  by  night,  but 
I  thought  it  very  probable,  for  the  crises  of  such  cases 
usually  do  occur  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning.     I 


40  THE  BEETLE-HUNTER 

am  a  very  nervous  man  myself,  but  I  saw  no  other  way 
in  which  I  could  remove  this  terrible  danger  from  my 
sister's  life.  I  need  not  ask  you  whether  you  are  will- 
ing to  sign  the  lunacy  papers." 

"  Undoubtedly.     But  two  signatures  are  necessary/' 

"  You  forget  that  I  am  myself  a  holder  of  a  medical 

degree.     I  have  the  papers  on  a  side-table  here,  so  if 

you  will  be  good  enough  to  sign  them  now,  we  can  have 

the  patient  removed  in  the  morning." 

So  that  was  my  visit  to  Sir  Thomas  Eossiter,  the 
famous  beetle-hunter,  and  that  was  also  my  first  step 
upon  the  ladder  of  success,  for  Lady  Eossiter  and  Lord 
Linchmere  have  proved  to  be  staunch  friends,  and  they 
have  never  forgotten  my  association  with  them  in  the 
time  of  their  need.  Sir  Thomas  is  out  and  said  to  be 
cured,  but  I  still  think  that  if  I  spent  another  night  at 
Delamere  Court,  I  should  be  inclined  to  lock  my  door 
upon  the  inside. 


THE   MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES 

There  are  many  who  will  still  bear  in  mind  the 
singular  circumstances  which,  under  the  heading  of  the 
Kugby  Mystery,  filled  many  columns  of  the  daily 
Press  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1892.  Coming  as  it 
did  at  a  period  of  exceptional  dulness,  it  attracted 
perhaps  rather  more  attention  than  it  deserved,  but  it 
offered  to  the  public  that  mixture  of  the  whimsical 
and  the  tragic  which  is  most  stimulating  to  the  popular 
imagination.  Interest  drooped,  however,  when,  after 
weeks  of  fruitless  investigation,  it  was  found  that  no 
final  explanation  of  the  facts  was  forthcoming,  and  the 
tragedy  seemed  from  that  time  to  the  present  to  have 
finally  taken  its  place  in  the  dark  catalogue  of  inex- 
plicable and  unexpiated  crimes.  A  recent  communica- 
tion (the  authenticity  of  which  appears  to  be  above 
question)  has,  however,  thrown  some  new  and  clear 
light  upon  the  matter.  Before  laying  it  before  the 
public  it  would  be  as  well,  perhaps,  that  I  should 
refresh  their  memories  as  to  the  singular  facts  upon 
which  this  commentary  is  founded.  These  facts  were 
briefly  as  follows  : — 

At  five  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  the  18th  of 
March  in  the  year  already  mentioned  a  train  left 
Euston   Station    for    Manchester.      It   was  a  rainy, 

41 


42  THE  MAN  "WITH  THE  WATCHES 

squally  day,  which  grew  wilder  as  it  progressed,  so  it 
was  by  no  means  the  weather  in  which  any  one  would 
travel  who  was  not  driven  to  do  so  by  necessity.  The 
train,  however,  is  a  favourite  one  among  Manchester 
business  men  who  are  returning  from  town,  for  it  does 
the  journey  in  four  hours  and  twenty  minutes,  with 
only  three  stoppages  upon  the  way.  In  spite  of  the 
inclement  evening  it  was,  therefore,  fairly  well  filled 
upon  the  occasion  of  which  I  speak.  The  guard  of  the 
train  was  a  tried  servant  of  the  company — a  man  who 
had  worked  for  twenty-two  years  without  blemish  or 
complaint.    His  name  was  John  Palmer. 

The  station  clock  was  upon  the  stroke'  of  five,  and 
the  guard  was  about  to  give  the  customary  signal  to 
the  engine-driver  when  he  observed  two  belated  pas- 
sengers hurrying  down  the  platform.  The  one  was  an 
exceptionally  tall  man,  dressed  in  a  long  black  over- 
coat with  Astrakhan  collar  and  cuffs.  I  have  already 
said  that  the  evening  was  an  inclement  one,  and  the 
tall  traveller  had  the  high,  warm  collar  turned  up  to 
protect  his  throat  against  the  bitter  March  wind.  He 
appeared,  as  far  as  the  guard  could  judge  by  so  hurried 
an  inspection,  to  be  a  man  between  fifty  and  sixty  years 
of  age,  who  had  retained  a  good  deal  of  the  vigour  and 
activity  of  his  youth.  In  one  hand  he  carried  a  brown 
leather  Gladstone  bag.  His  companion  was  a  lady, 
tall  and  erect,  walking  with  a  vigorous  step  which  out- 
paced the  gentleman  beside  her.  She  wore  a  long, 
fawn-coloured  dust-cloak,  a  black,  close-fitting  toque, 
and  a  dark  veil  which  concealed  the  greater  part  of 
her  face.  The  two  might  very  well  have  passed  as 
father  and  daughter.    They  walked  swiftly  down  the 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES  43 

line  of  carriages,  glancing  in  at  the  windows,  until  the 
guard,  John  Palmer,  overtook  them. 

"Now,  then,  sir,  look  sharp,  the  train  is  going/' 
said  he. 

"  First-class,"  the  man  answered. 

The  guard  turned  the  handle  of  the  nearest  door. 
In  the  carriage,  which  he  had  opened,  there  sat  a  small 
man  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth.  His  appearance  seems 
to  have  impressed  itself  upon  the  guard's  memory, 
for  he  was  prepared,  afterwards,  to  describe  or  to 
identify  him.  He  was  a  man  of  thirty-four  or  thirty- 
five  years  of  age,  dressed  in  some  grey  material,  sharp- 
nosed,  alert,  with  a  ruddy,  weather-beaten  face,  and  a 
small,  closely  cropped  black  beard.  He  glanced  up  as 
the  door  was  opened.  The  tall  man  paused  with  his 
foot  upon  the  step. 

"This  is  a  smoking  compartment.  The  lady  dis- 
likes smoke,"  said  he,  looking  round  at  the  guard. 

*■  All  right !  Here  you  are,  sir ! "  said  John  Palmer. 
He  slammed  the  door  of  the  smoking  carriage,  opened 
that  of  the  next  one,  which  was  empty,  and  thrust  the 
two  travellers  in.  At  the  same  moment  he  sounded 
his  whistle  and  the  wheels  of  the  train  began  to  move. 
The  man  with  the  cigar  was  at  the  window  of  his 
carriage,  and  said  something  to  the  guard  as  he  rolled 
past  him,  but  the  words  were  lost  in  the  bustle  of  the 
departure.  Palmer  stepped  into  the  guard's  van,  as 
it  came  up  to  him,  and  thought  no  more  of  the 
incident. 

Twelve  minutes  after  its  departure  the  train 
reached  Willesden  Junction,  where  it  stopped  for  a 
very  short  interval.     An  examination  of  the  tickets 


44  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES 

has  made  it  certain  that  no  one  either  joined  or  left  it 
at  this  time,  and  no  passenger  was  seen  to  alight  upon 
the  platform.  At  5.14  the  journey  to  Manchester  was 
resumed,  and  Eugby  was  reached  at  6.50,  the  express 
being  five  minutes  late. 

At  Eugby  the  attention  of  the  station  officials  was 
drawn  to  the  fact  that  the  door  of  one  of  the  first- 
class  carriages  was  open.  An  examination  of  that 
compartment,  and  of  its  neighbour,  disclosed  a  remark- 
able state  of  affairs. 

The  smoking  carriage  in  which  the  short,  red-faced 
man  with  the  black  beard  had  been  seen  was  now 
empty.  Save  for  a  half-smoked  cigar,  there  was  no 
trace  whatever  of  its  recent  occupant.  The  door  of  this 
carriage  was  fastened.  In  the  next  compartment,  to 
which  attention  had  been  originally  drawn,  there  was 
no  sign  either  of  the  gentleman  with  the  Astrakhan 
collar  or  of  the  young  lady  who  accompanied  him.  All 
three  passengers  had  disappeared.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  was  found  upon  the  floor  of  this  carriage — the 
one  in  which  the  tall  traveller  and  the  lady  had  been 
— a  young  man,  fashionably  dressed  and  of  elegant 
appearance.  He  lay  with  his  knees  drawn  up,  and  his 
head  resting  against  the  further  door,  an  elbow  upon 
either  seat.  A  bullet  had  penetrated  his  heart  and  his 
death  must  have  been  instantaneous.  "No  one  had  seen 
such  a  man  enter  the  train,  and  no  railway  ticket  was 
found  in  his  pocket,  neither  were  there  any  markings 
upon  his  linen,  nor  papers  nor  personal  property  which 
might  help  to  identify  him.  Who  he  was,  whence  he 
had  come,  and  how  he  had  met  his  end  were  each  as 
great  a  mystery  as  what  had  occurred  to  the  three  people 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES  45 

who  had  started  an  hour   and   a   half  before  from 
Willesden  in  those  two  compartments. 

I  have  said  that  there  was  no  personal  property 
which  might  help  to  identify  him,  but  it  is  true  that 
there  was  one  peculiarity  about  this  unknown  young 
man  which  was  much  commented  upon  at  the  time. 
In  his  pockets  were  found  no  fewer  than  six  valuable 
gold  watches,  three  in  the  various  pockets  of  his 
waistcoat,  one  in  his  ticket-pocket,  one  in  his  breast- 
pocket, and  one  small  one  set  in  a  leather  strap  and 
fastened  round  his  left  wrist.  The  obvious  explanation 
that  the  man  was  a  pickpocket,  and  that  this  was  his 
plunder,  was  discounted  by  the  fact  that  all  six  were 
of  American  make,  and  of  a  type  which  is  rare  in 
England.  Three  of  them  bore  the  mark  of  the 
Kochester  Watchmaking  Company ;  one  was  by  Mason, 
of  Elmira ;  one  was  unmarked ;  and  the  small  one, 
which  was  highly  jewelled  and  ornamented,  was  from 
Tiffany,  of  New  York.  The  other  contents  of  his 
pocket  consisted  of  an  ivory  knife  with  a  corkscrew  by 
Eodgers,  of  Sheffield ;  a  small  circular  mirror,  one  inch 
in  diameter;  a  re-admission  slip  to  the  Lyceum 
theatre;  a  silver  box  Ml  of  vesta  matches,  and  a 
brown  leather  cigar-case  containing  two  cheroots — 
also  two  pounds  fourteen  shillings  in  money.  It  was 
clear,  then,  that  whatever  motives  may  have  led  to 
his  death,  robbery  was  not  among  them.  As  already 
mentioned,  there  were  no  markings  upon  the  man's 
linen,  which  appeared  to  be  new,  and  no  tailor's  name 
upon  his  coat.  In  appearance  he  was  young,  short, 
smooth-cheeked,  and  delicately  featured.  One  of  his 
front  teeth  was  conspicuously  stopped  with  gold. 


46  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES 

On  the  discovery  of  the  tragedy  an  examination 
was  instantly  made  of  the  tickets  of  all  passengers, 
and  the  number  of  the  passengers  themselves  was 
counted.  It  was  found  that  only  three  tickets  were 
unaccounted  for,  corresponding  to  the  three  travellers 
who  were  missing.  The  express  was  then  aUowed  to 
proceed,  but  a  new  guard  was  sent  with  it,  and  John 
Palmer  was  detained  as  a  witness  at  Eugby.  The 
carriage  which  included  the  two  compartments  in 
question  was  uncoupled  and  side-tracked.  Then,  on 
the  arrival  of  Inspector  Vane,  of  Scotland  Yard,  and 
of  Mr.  Henderson,  a  detective  in  the  service  of  the 
railway  company,  an  exhaustive  inquiry  was  made 
into  all  the  circumstances. 

That  crime  had  been  committed  was  certain.  The 
bullet,  which  appeared  to  have  come  from  a  smaU 
pistol  or  revolver,  had  been  fired  from  some  Httle 
distance,  as  there  was  no  scorching  of  the  clothes. 
No  weapon  was  found  in  the  compartment  (which 
finally  disposed  of  the  theory  of  suicide),  nor  was 
there  any  sign  of  the  brown  leather  bag  which  the 
guard  had  seen  in  the  hand  of  the  tall  gentleman.  A 
lady's  parasol  was  found  upon  the  rack,  but  no  other 
trace  was  to  be  seen  of  the  traveUers  in  either  of  the 
sections.  Apart  from  the  crime,  the  question  of  how 
or  why  three  passengers  (one  of  them  a  lady)  could 
get  out  of  the  train,  and  one  other  get  in  during  the 
unbroken  run  between  Willesden  and  Eugby,  was  one 
which  excited  the  utmost  curiosity  among  the  general 
public,  and  gave  rise  to  much  speculation  in  the 
London  Press. 

John  Palmer,  the  guard,  was  able  at  the  inquest 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES  47 

to  give  some  evidence  which  threw  a  little  light  upon 
the  matter.  There  was  a  spot  between  Tring  and 
Cheddington,  according  to  his  statement,  where,  on 
account  of  some  repairs  to  the  line,  the  train  had  for 
a  few  minutes  slowed  down  to  a  pace  not  exceeding 
eight  or  ten  miles  an  hour.  At  that  place  it  might  be 
possible  for  a  man,  or  even  for  an  exceptionaUy  active 
woman,  to  have  left  the  train  without  serious  injury. 
It  was  true  that  a  gang  of  platelayers  was  there,  and 
that  they  had  seen  nothing,  but  it  was  their  custom  to 
stand  in  the  middle  between  the  metals,  and  the  open 
carriage  door  was  upon  the  far  side,  so  that  it  was  con- 
ceivable that  someone  might  have  alighted  unseen,  as 
the  darkness  would  by  that  time  be  drawing  in.  A 
steep  embankment  would  instantly  screen  anyone  who 
sprang  out  from  the  observation  of  the  navvies. 

The  guard  also  deposed  that  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  movement  upon  the  platform  at  Willesden  Junction, 
and  that  though  it  was  certain  that  no  one  had  either 
joined  or  left  the  train  there,  it  was  still  quite  possible 
that  some  of  the  passengers  might  have  changed 
unseen  from  one  compartment  to  another.  It  was  by 
no  means  uncommon  for  a  gentleman  to  finish  his 
cigar  in  a  smoking  carriage  and  then  to  change  to  a 
clearer  atmosphere.  Supposing  that  the  man  with  the 
black  beard  had  done  so  at  Willesden  (and  the  half- 
smoked  cigar  upon  the  floor  seemed  to  favour  the 
supposition),  he  would  naturally  go  into  the  nearest 
section,  which  would  bring  him  into  the  company  of 
the  two  other  actors  in  this  drama.  Thus  the  first 
stage  of  the  affair  might  be  surmised  without  any  great 
breach  of  probability.    But  what  the  second  stage  had 


48  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES 

been,  or  how  the  final  one  had  been  arrived  at,  neither 
the  guard  nor  the  experienced  detective  officers  could 
suggest. 

A  careful  examination  of  the  line  between  Willesden 
and  Rugby  resulted  in  one  discovery  which  might  or 
might  not  have  a  bearing  upon  the  tragedy.  Near 
Tring,  at  the  very  place  where  the  train  slowed  down, 
there  was  found  at  the  bottom  of  the  embankment  a 
small  pocket  Testament,  very  shabby  and  worn.  It 
was  printed  by  the  Bible  Society  of  London,  and  bore 
an  inscription:  "From  John  to  Alice.  Jan.  13th, 
1856,"  upon  the  fly-leaf.  Underneath  was  written: 
P James,  July  4th,  1859,"  and  beneath  that  again: 
"Edward.  Nov.  1st,  1869,"  all  the  entries  being  in 
the  same  handwriting.  This  was  the  only  clue,  if  it 
could  be  called  a  clue,  which  the  police  obtained,  and 
the  coroner's  verdict  of  "Murder  by  a  person  or 
persons  unknown"  was  the  unsatisfactory  ending  of 
a  singular  case.  Advertisement,  rewards,  and  inquiries 
proved  equally  fruitless,  and  nothing  could  be  found 
which  was  solid  enough  to  form  the  basis  for  a 
profitable  investigation. 

It  would  be  a  mistake,  however,  to  suppose  that  no 
theories  were  formed  to  account  for  the  facts.  On  the 
contrary,  the  Press,  both  in  England  and  in  America, 
teemed  with  suggestions  and  suppositions,  most  of 
which  were  obviously  absurd.  The  fact  that  the 
watches  were  of  American  make,  and  some  peculiarities 
in  connection  with  the  gold  stopping  of  his  front  tooth, 
appeared  to  indicate  that  the  deceased  was  a  citizen  of 
the  United  States,  though  his  linen,  clothes,  and  boots 
were  undoubtedly  of  British  manufacture,     It  was 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES  49 

surmised,  by  some,  that  he  was  concealed  under  the 
seat,  and  that,  being  discovered,  he  was  for  some 
reason,  possibly  because  he  had  overheard  their  guilty 
secrets,  put  to  death  by  his  fellow-passengers.  When 
coupled  with  generalities  as  to  the  ferocity  and  cunning 
of  anarchical  and  other  secret  societies,  this  theory 
sounded  as  plausible  as  any. 

The  fact  that  he  should  be  without  a  ticket  would 
be  consistent  with  the  idea  of  concealment,  and  it  was 
well  known  that  women  played  a  prominent  part  in 
the  Nihilistic  propaganda.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was 
clear,  from  the  guard's  statement,  that  the  man  must 
have  been  hidden  there  before  the  others  arrived,  and 
how  unlikely  the  coincidence  that  conspirators  should 
stray  exactly  into  the  very  compartment  in  which  a 
spy  was  already  concealed  !  Besides,  this  explanation 
ignored  the  man  in  the  smoking  carriage,  and  gave  no 
reason  at  all  for  his  simultaneous  disappearance.  The 
police  had  little  difficulty  in  showing  that  such  a  theory 
would  not  cover  the  facts,  but  they  were  unprepared 
in  the  absence  of  evidence  to  advance  any  alternative 
explanation. 

There  was  a  letter  in  the  Daily  Gazette,  over  the 
signature  of  a  well-known  criminal  investigator,  which 
gave  rise  to  considerable  discussion  at  the  time.  He 
had  formed  a  hypothesis  which  had  at  least  ingenuity 
to  recommend  it,  and  I  cannot  do  better  than  append 
it  in  his  own  words. 

"Whatever  may  be  the  truth,"  said  he,  "it  must 
depend  upon  some  bizarre  and  rare  combination  of 
events,  so  we  need  have  no  hesitation  in  postulating 
such  events  in  our  explanation.     In  the  absence  of 

E 


50  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES 

data  we  must  abandon  the  analytic  or  scientific  method 
of  investigation,  and  must  approach  it  in  the  synthetic 
fashion.  In  a  word,  instead  of  taking  known  events  and 
deducing  from  them  what  has  occurred,  we  must  build 
up  a  fanciful  explanation  if  it  will  only  be  consistent 
with  known  events.  We  can  then  test  this  explana- 
tion by  any  fresh  facts  which  may  arise.  If  they  all 
fit  into  their  places,  the  probability  is  that  we  are  upon 
the  right  track,  and  with  each  fresh  fact  this  proba- 
bility increases  in  a  geometrical  progression  until  the 
evidence  becomes  final  and  convincing. 

"  Now,  there  is  one  most  remarkable  and  suggestive 
fact  which  has  not  met  with  the  attention  which  it 
deserves.  There  is  a  local  train  running  through 
Harrow  and  King's  Langley,  which  is  timed  in  such  a 
way  that  the  express  must  have  overtaken  it  at  or  about 
the  period  when  it  eased  down  its  speed  to  eight  miles 
an  hour  on  account  of  the  repairs  of  the  line.  The 
two  trains  would  at  that  time  be  travelling  in  the  same 
direction  at  a  similar  rate  of  speed  and  upon  parallel 
lines.  It  is  within  everyone's  experience  how,  under 
such  circumstances,  the  occupant  of  each  carriage  can 
see  very  plainly  the  passengers  in  the  other  carriages 
opposite  to  him.  The  lamps  of  the  express  had  been 
lit  at  Willesden,  so  that  each  compartment  was  brightly 
illuminated,  and  most  visible  to  an  observer  from 
outside. 

"Now,  the  sequence  of  events  as  I  reconstruct 
them  would  be  after  this  fashion.  This  young  man 
with  the  abnormal  number  of  watches  was  alone  in  the 
carriage  of  the  slow  train.  His  ticket,  with  his  papers 
and  gloves  and  other  things,  was,  we  will  suppose,  on 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE   WATCHES  51 

the  seat  beside  him.  He  was  probably  an  American, 
and  also  probably  a  man  of  weak  intellect.  The  ex- 
cessive wearing  of  jewellery  is  an  early  symptom  in 
some  forms  of  mania. 

"As  he  sat  watching  the  carriages  of  the  express 
which  were  (on  account  of  the  state  of  the  line)  going 
at  the  same  pace  as  himself,  he  suddenly  saw  some 
people  in  it  whom  he  knew.  We  will  suppose  for  the 
sake  of  our  theory  that  these  people  were  a  woman 
whom  he  loved  and  a  man  whom  he  hated — and  who 
in  return  hated  him.  The  young  man  was  excitable 
and  impulsive.  He  opened  the  door  of  his  carriage, 
stepped  from  the  footboard  of  the  local  train  to  the 
footboard  of  the  express,  opened  the  other  door,  and 
made  his  way  into  the  presence  of  these  two  people. 
The  feat  (on  the  supposition  that  the  trains  were  going 
at  the  same  pace)  is  by  no  means  so  perilous  as  it  might 
appear. 

"  Having  now  got  our  young  man  without  his  ticket 
into  the  carriage  in  which  the  elder  man  and  the  young 
woman  are  travelling,  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  that 
a  violent  scene  ensued.  It  is  possible  that  the  pair 
were  also  Americans,  which  is  the  more  probable  as 
the  man  carried  a  weapon — an  unusual  thing  in  Eng- 
land. If  our  supposition  of  incipient  mania  is  correct, 
the  young  man  is  likely  to  have  assaulted  the  other. 
As  the  upshot  of  the  quarrel  the  elder  man  shot  the 
intruder,  and  then  made  his  escape  from  the  carriage, 
taking  the  young  lady  with  him.  We  will  suppose 
that  all  this  happened  very  rapidly,  and  that  the  train 
was  still  going  at  so  slow  a  pace  that  it  was  not  difficult 
for  them  to  leave  it.    A  woman  might  leave  a  train 


52  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES 

going  at  eight  miles  an  hour.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we 
know  that  this  woman  did  do  so. 

"  And  now  we  have  to  fit  in  the  man  in  the  smok- 
ing carriage.  Presuming  that  we  have,  up  to  this 
point,  reconstructed  the  tragedy  correctly,  we  shall  find 
nothing  in  this  other  man  to  cause  us  to  reconsider  our 
conclusions.  According  to  my  theory,  this  man  saw 
the  young  fellow  cross  from  one  train  to  the  other,  saw 
him  open  the  door,  heard  the  pistol-shot,  saw  the  two 
fugitives  spring  out  on  to  the  line,  realized  that  murder 
had  been  done,  and  sprang  out  himself  in  pursuit. 
Why  he  has  never  been  heard  of  since — whether  he 
met  his  own  death  in  the  pursuit,  or  whether,  as  is 
more  likely,  he  was  made  to  realize  that  it  was  not  a 
case  for  his  interference —is  a  detail  which  we  have  at 
present  no  means  of  explaining.  I  acknowledge  that 
there  are  some  difficulties  in  the  way.  At  first  sight, 
it  might  seem  improbable  that  at  such  a  moment  a 
murderer  would  burden  himself  in  his  flight  with  a 
brown  leather  bag.  My  answer  is  that  he  was  weU 
aware  that  if  the  bag  were  found  his  identity  would  be 
established.  It  was  absolutely  necessary  for  him  to 
take  it  with  him.  My  theory  stands  or  falls  upon  one 
point,  and  I  call  upon  the  railway  company  to  make 
strict  inquiry  as  to  whether  a  ticket  was  found  un- 
claimed in  the  local  train  through  Harrow  and  King's 
Langley  upon  the  18th  of  March.  If  such  a  ticket 
were  found  my  case  is  proved.  If  not,  my  theory  may 
still  be  the  correct  one,  for  it  is  conceivable  either  that 
he  travelled  without  a  ticket  or  that  his  ticket  was 
lost." 

To  this  elaborate    and    plausible  hypothesis  the 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES  53 

answer  of  the  police  and  of  the  company  was,  first, 
that  no  such  ticket  was  found ;  secondly,  that  the  slow 
train  would  never  run  parallel  to  the  express ;  and, 
thirdly,  that  the  local  train  had  been  stationary  in 
King's  Langley  Station  when  the  express,  going  at  fifty 
miles  an  hour,  had  flashed  past  it.  So  perished  the 
only  satisfying  explanation,  and  five  years  have  elapsed 
without  suppling  a  new  one.  Now,  at  last,  there 
comes  a  statement  which  covers  all  the  facts,  and  which 
must  be  regarded  as  authentic.  It  took  the  shape  of  a 
letter  dated  from  New  York,  and  addressed  to  the  same 
criminal  investigator  whose  theory  I  have  quoted.  It 
is  given  here  in  extenso,  with  the  exception  of  the 
two  opening  paragraphs,  which  are  personal  in  their 
nature : — 

"  You'll  excuse  me  if  I'm  not  very  free  with  names. 
There's  less  reason  now  than  there  was  five  years  ago 
when  mother  was  still  living.  But  for  all  that,  I  had 
rather  cover  up  our  tracks  all  I  can.  But  I  owe  you 
an  explanation,  for  if  your  idea  of  it  was  wrong,  it  was 
a  mighty  ingenious  one  all  the  same.  I'll  have  to  go 
back  a  little  so  as  you  may  understand  all  about  it. 

"  My  people  came  from  Bucks,  England,  and  emi- 
grated to  the  States  in  the  early  fifties.  They  settled 
in  Kochester,  in  the  State  of  New  York,  where  my 
father  ran  a  large  dry  goods  store.  There  were  only 
two  sons :  myself,  James,  and  my  brother,  Edward.  I 
was  ten  years  older  than  my  brother,  and  after  my  father 
died  I  sort  of  took  the  place  of  a  father  to  him,  as  an 
elder  brother  would.  He  was  a  bright,  spirited  boy, 
and  just  one  of  the  most  beautiful  creatures  that  ever 
lived.    But  there  was  always  a  soft  spot  in  him,  and  it 


54  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES 

was  like  mould  in  cheese,  for  it  spread  and  spread,  and 
nothing  that  you  could  do  would  stop  it.  Mother  saw 
it  just  as  clearly  as  I  did,  but  she  went  on  spoiling  him 
all  the  same,  for  he  had  such  a  way  with  him  that  you 
could  refuse  him  nothing.  I  did  all  I  could  to  hold 
him  in,  and  he  hated  me  for  my  pains. 

"  At  last  he  fairly  got  his  head,  and  nothing  that 
we  could  do  would  stop  him.  He  got  off  into  New 
York,  and  went  rapidly  from  bad  to  worse.  At  first  he 
was  only  fast,  and  then  he  was  criminal ;  and  then,  at 
the  end  of  a  year  or  two,  he  was  one  of  the  most  noto- 
rious young  crooks  in  the  city.  He  had  formed  a 
friendship  with  Sparrow  MacCoy,  who  was  at  the  head 
of  his  profession  as  a  bunco-steerer,  green  goodsman, 
and  general  rascal.  They  took  to  card-sharping,  and 
frequented  some  of  the  best  hotels  in  New  York.  My 
brother  was  an  excellent  actor  (he  might  have  made  an 
honest  name  for  himself  if  he  had  chosen),  and  he  would 
take  the  parts  of  a  young  Englishman  of  title,  of  a 
simple  lad  from  the  West,  or  of  a  college  undergra- 
duate, whichever  suited  Sparrow  MacCoy's  purpose. 
And  then  one  day  he  dressed  himself  as  a  girl,  and  he 
carried  it  off  so  well,  and  made  himself  such  a  valuable 
decoy,  that  it  was  their  favourite  game  afterwards. 
They  had  made  it  right  with  Tammany  and  with  the 
police,  so  it  seemed  as  if  nothing  could  ever  stop  them, 
for  those  were  in  the  days  before  the  Lexow  Commis- 
sion, and  if  you  only  had  a  pull,  you  could  do  pretty 
nearly  everything  you  wanted. 

"And  nothing  would  have  stopped  them  if  they 
had  only  stuck  to  cards  and  New  York,  but  they  must 
needs  come  up  Rochester  way,  and  forge  a  name  upon 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES  55 

a  check.  It  was  my  brother  that  did  it,  though  every- 
one knew  that  it  was  under  the  influence  of  Sparrow 
MacCoy.  I  bought  up  that  check,  and  a  pretty  sum  it 
cost  me.  Then  I  went  to  my  brother,  laid  it  before 
him  on  the  table,  and  swore  to  him  that  I  would  prose- 
cute if  he  did  not  clear  out  of  the  country.  At  first  he 
simply  laughed.  I  could  not  prosecute,  he  said,  with- 
out breaking  our  mothers  heart,  and  he  knew  that  I 
would  not  do  that.  I  made  him  understand,  however, 
that  our  mother's  heart  was  being  broken  in  any  case, 
and  that  'I  had  set  firm  on  the  point  that  I  would 
rather  see  him  in  a  Bochester  gaol  than  in  a  New  York 
hotel.  So  at  last  he  gave  in,  and  he  made  me  a  solemn 
promise  that  he  would  see  Sparrow  MacCoy  no  more, 
that  he  would  go  to  Europe,  and  that  he  would  turn 
his  hand  to  any  honest  trade  that  I  helped  him  to  get. 
I  took  him  down  right  away  to  an  old  family  friend, 
Joe  Willson,  who  is  an  exporter  of  American  watches 
and  clocks,  and  I  got  him  to  give  Edward  an  agency 
in  London,  with  a  small  salary  and  a  15  per  cent,  com- 
mission on  aU  business.  His  manner  and  appearance 
were  so  good  that  he  won  the  old  man  over  at  once,  and 
within  a  week  he  was  sent  off  to  London  with  a  case 
full  of  samples. 

"  It  seemed  to  me  that  this  business  of  the  check 
had  really  given  my  brother  a  fright,  and  that  there 
was  some  chance  of  his  settling  down  into  an  honest 
Hne  of  life.  My  mother  had  spoken  with  him,  and 
what  she  said  had  touched  him,  for  she  had  always 
been  the  best  of  mothers  to  him,  and  he  had  been  the 
great  sorrow  of  her  life.  But  I  knew  that  this  man 
Sparrow  MacCoy  had  a  great  influence  over  Edward, 


56  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES 

and  my  chance  of  keeping  the  lad  straight  lay  in 
breaking  the  connection  between  them.  I  had  a  friend 
in  the  New  York  detective  force,  and  through  him  I 
kept  a  watch  upon  MacCoy.  When  within  a  fortnight 
of  my  brother's  sailing  I  heard  that  MacCoy  had  taken 
a  berth  in  the  ffiruria,  I  was  as  certain  as  if  he  had 
told  me  that  he  was  going  over  to  England  for  the 
purpose  of  coaxing  Edward  back  again  into  the  ways 
that  he  had  left.  In  an  instant  I  had  resolved  to  go 
also,  and  to  put  my  influence  against  MacCoy's.  I 
knew  it  was  a  losing  fight,  but  I  thought,  and  my 
mother  thought,  that  it  was  my  duty.  We  passed  the 
last  night  together  in  prayer  for  my  success,  and  she 
gave  me  her  own  Testament  that  my  father  had  given 
her  on  the  day  of  their  marriage  in  the  Old  Country, 
bo  that  I  might  always  wear  it  next  my  heart. 

"  I  was  a  fellow-traveller,  on  the  steamship,  with 
Sparrow  MacCoy,  and  at  least  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
spoiHng  his  little  game  for  the  voyage.  The  very  first 
night  I  went  into  the  smoking-room,  and  found  him  at 
the  head  of  a  card  table,  with  half-a-dozen  young 
fellows  who  were  carrying  their  fuU  purses  and  their 
empty  skulls  over  to  Europe.  He  was  settling  down 
for  his  harvest,  and  a  rich  one  it  would  have  been. 
But  I  soon  changed  all  that 

" '  Gentlemen/  said  I, '  are  you  aware  whom  you  are 
playing  with  ? ' 

" ■  What's  that  to  you  ?  You  mind  your  own 
business !  *  said  he,  with  an  oath. 

"  c  Who  is  it,  anyway  ? '  asked  one  of  the  dudes. 

"  '  He's  Sparrow  MacCoy,  the  most  notorious  card- 
sharper  in  the  States.' 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES  57 

"  Up  he  jumped  with  a  bottle  in  his  hand,  but  he 
remembered  that  he  was  under  the  flag  of  the  effete 
Old  Country,  where  law  and  order  run,  and  Tammany 
has  no  pull.  Gaol  and  the  gallows  wait  for  violence 
and  murder,  and  there's  no  slipping  out  by  the  back 
door  on  board  an  ocean  liner. 

" '  Prove  your  words,  you ! '  said  he. 

" '  I  will ! '  said  I.  '  If  you  will  turn  up  your  right 
shirt-sleeve  to  the  shoulder,  I  will  either  prove  my 
words  or  I  will  eat  them/ 

"  He  turned  white  and  said  not  a  word.  You  see, 
I  knew  something  of  his  ways,  and  I  was  aware  that 
part  of  the  mechanism  which  he  and  all  such  sharpers 
use  consists  of  an  elastic  down  the  arm  with  a  clip  just 
above  the  wrist.  It  is  by  means  of  this  clip  that  they 
withdraw  from  their  hands  the  cards  which  they  do  not 
want,  while  they  substitute  other  cards  from  another 
hiding-place.  I  reckoned  on  it  being  there,  and  it  was. 
He  cursed  me,  slunk  out  of  the  saloon,  and  was  hardly 
seen  again  during  the  voyage.  For  once,  at  any  rate, 
I  got  level  with  Mister  Sparrow  MacCoy. 

"  But  he  soon  had  his  revenge  upon  me,  for  when 
it  came  to  influencing  my  brother  he  outweighed  me 
every  time.  Edward  had  kept  himself  straight  in 
London  for  the  first  few  weeks,  and  had  done  some 
business  with  his  American  watches,  until  this  villain 
came  across  his  path  once  more.  I  did  my  best,  but 
the  best  was  little  enough.  The  next  thing  I  heard 
there  had  been  a  scandal  at  one  of  the  Northumberland 
Avenue  hotels :  a  traveller  had  been  fleeced  of  a  large 
sum  by  two  confederate  card-sharpers,  and  the  matter 
was  in  the  hands  of  Scotland  Yard,    The  first  I  learned 


58  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES 

of  it  was  in  the  evening  paper,  and  I  was  at  once 
certain  that  my  brother  and  MacCoy  were  back  at 
their  old  games.  I  hurried  at  once  to  Edward's  lodgings. 
They  told  me  that  he  and  a  tall  gentleman  (whom  I 
recognized  as  MacCoy)  had  gone  ;off  together,  and  that 
he  had  left  the  lodgings  and  taken  his  things  with 
him.  The  landlady  had  heard  them  give  several 
directions  to  the  cabman,  ending  with  Euston  Station, 
and  she  had  accidentally  overheard  the  tall  gentleman 
saying  something  about  Manchester.  She  believed 
that  that  was  their  destination. 

"A  glance  at  the  time-table  showed  me  that  the 
most  likely  train  was  at  five,  though  there  was  another 
at  4.35  which  they  might  have  caught.  I  had  only 
time  to  get  the  later  one,  but  found  no  sign  of  them 
either  at  the  depot  or  in  the  train.  They  must  have 
gone  on  by  the  earlier  one,  so  I  determined  to  follow 
them  to  Manchester  and  search  for  them  in  the  hotels 
there.  One  last  appeal  to  my  brother  by  all  that  he 
owed  to  my  mother  might  even  now  be  the  salvation 
of  him.  My  nerves  were  overstrung,  and  I  lit  a  cigar 
to  steady  them.  At  that  moment,  just  as  the  train 
was  moving  off,  the  door  of  my  compartment  was 
flung  open,  and  there  were  MacCoy  and  my  brother 
on  the  platform. 

"  They  were  both  disguised,  and  with  good  reason, 
for  they  knew  that  the  London  police  were  after  them. 
MacCoy  had  a  great  Astrakhan  collar  drawn  up,  so  that 
only  his  eyes  and  nose  were  showing.  My  brother 
was  dressed  like  a  woman,  with  a  black  veil  half  down 
his  face,  but  of  course  it  did  not  deceive  me  for  an 
instant,  nor  would  it  have  done  so  even  if  I  had  not 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES  59 

known  that  he  had  often  used  such  a  dress  before.  I 
started  up,  and  as  I  did  so  MacCoy  recognized  me. 
He  said  something,  the  conductor  slammed  the  door, 
and  they  were  shown  into  the  next  compartment.  I 
tried  to  stop  the  train  so  as  to  follow  them,  but  the 
wheels  were  already  moving,  and  it  was  too  late. 

"When  we  stopped  at  Willesden,  I  instantly 
changed  my  carriage.  It  appears  that  I  was  not  seen 
to  do  so,  which  is  not  surprising,  as  the  station  was 
crowded  with  people.  MacCoy,  of  course,  was  expect- 
ing me,  and  he  had  spent  the  time  between  Euston 
and  "Willesden  in  saying  all  he  could  to  harden  my 
brother's  heart  and  set  him  against  me.  That  is  what 
I  fancy,  for  I  had  never  found  him  so  impossible  to 
soften  or  to  move.  I  tried  this  way  and  I  tried  that ; 
I  pictured  his  future  in  an  English  gaol ;  I  described 
the  sorrow  of  his  mother  when  I  came  back  with  the 
news ;  I  said  everything  to  touch  his  heart,  but  all  to 
no  purpose.  He  sat  there  with  a  fixed  sneer  upon  his 
handsome  face,  while  every  now  and  then  Sparrow 
MacCoy  would  throw  in  a  taunt  at  me,  or  some  word 
of  encouragement  to  hold  my  brother  to  his  reso- 
lutions. 

"  ■  Why  don't  you  run  a  Sunday-school  ? '  he  would 
say  to  me,  and  then,  in  the  same  breath :  '  He  thinks 
you  have  no  will  of  your  own.  He  thinks  you  are 
just  the  baby  brother  and  that  he  can  lead  you  where 
he  likes.  He's  only  just  finding  out  that  you  are  a 
man  as  well  as  he.' 

"It  was  those  words  of  his  which  set  me  talking 
bitterly.  We  had  left  Willesden,  you  understand,  for 
all  this  took  some  time.    My  temper  got  the  better 


60  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES 

of  me,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  let  my  brother 
see  the  rough  side  of  me.  Perhaps  it  would  have  been 
better  had  I  done  so  earlier  and  more  often, 

" '  A  man ! '  said  I.  ■  Well,  I'm  glad  to  have  your 
friend's  assurance  of  it,  for  no  one  would  suspect  it  to 
see  you  like  a  boarding-school  missy.  I  don't  suppose 
in  all  this  country  there  is  a  more  contemptible-looking 
creature  than  you  are  as  you  sit  there  with  that  Dolly 
pinafore  upon  you/  He  coloured  up  at  that,  for  he 
was  a  vain  man,  and  he  winced  from  ridicule. 

"  ■  It's  only  a  dust-cloak/  said  he,  and  he  slipped 
it  off.  '  One  has  to  throw  the  coppers  off  one's  scent, 
and  I  had  no  other  way  to  do  it/  He  took  his  toque 
off  with  the  veil  attached,  and  he  put  both  it  and  the 
cloak  into  his  brown  bag.  'Anyway,  I  don't  need  to 
wear  it  until  the  conductor  comes  round/  said  he. 

"'Nor  then,  either,'  said  I,  and  taking  the  bag  I 
slung  it  with  all  my  force  out  of  the  window.  ■  Now/ 
said  I,  'you'll  never  make  a  Mary  Jane  of  yourself 
while  I  can  help  it.  If  nothing  but  that  disguise 
stands  between  you  and  a  gaol,  then  to  gaol  you 
shall  go/ 

"That  was  the  way  to  manage  him.  I  felt  my 
advantage  at  once.  His  supple  nature  was  one  which 
yielded  to  roughness  far  more  readily  than  to  entreaty. 
He  flushed  with  shame,  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
But  MacCoy  saw  my  advantage  also,  and  was  deter- 
mined that  I  should  not  pursue  it. 

" '  He's  my  pard,  and  you  shall  not  bully  him/  he 
cried. 

" '  He's  my  brother,  and  you  shall  not  ruin  him/ 
said  I.    'I  believe  a  spell  of  prison  is  the  very  best 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES  61 

way  of  keeping  you  apart,  and  you  shaU  have  it,  or  it 
•will  be  no  fault  of  mine/ 

"'Oh,  you  would  squeal,  would  you?'  he  cried, 
and  in  an  instant  he  whipped  out  his  revolver.  I 
sprang  for  his  hand,  but  saw  that  I  was  too  late,  and 
jumped  aside.  At  the  same  instant  he  fired,  and  the 
bullet  which  would  have  struck  me  passed  through 
the  heart  of  my  unfortunate  brother. 

"  He  dropped  without  a  groan  upon  the  floor  of  the 
compartment,  and  MacCoy  and  I,  equally  horrified, 
knelt  at  each  side  of  him,  trying  to  bring  back  some 
signs  of  life.  MacCoy  stiU  held  the  loaded  revolver 
in  his  hand,  but  his  anger  against  me  and  my  resent- 
ment towards  him  had  both  for  the  moment  been 
swallowed  up  in  this  sudden  tragedy.  It  was  he  who 
first  realized  the  situation.  The  train  was  for  some 
reason  going  very  slowly  at  the  moment,  and  he  saw 
his  opportunity  for  escape.  In  an  instant  he  had  the 
door  open,  but  I  was  as  quick  as  he,  and  jumping  upon 
him  the  two  of  us  fell  off  the  foot-board  and  rolled  in 
each  other's  arms  down  a  steep  embankment.  At  the 
bottom  I  struck  my  head  against  a  stone,  and  I  remem- 
bered nothing  more.  When  I  came  to  myself  I  was 
lying  among  some  low  bushes,  not  far  from  the  rail- 
road track,  and  somebody  wa3  bathing  my  head  with 
a  wet  handkerchief.    It  was  Sparrow  MacCoy. 

" '  I  guess  I  couldn't  leave  you/  said  he.  '  I  didn't 
want  to  have  the  blood  of  ,two  of  you  on  my  hands 
in  one  day.  You  loved  your  brother,  I've  no  doubt ; 
but  you  didn't  love  him  a  cent  more  than  I  loved  him, 
though  you'll  say  that  I  took  a  queer  way  to  show  it. 
Anyhow,  it  seems  a  mighty  empty  world  now  that  ha 


62  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES 

is  gone,  and  I  don't  care  a  continental  whether  you 
give  me  over  to  the  hangman  or  not/ 

"He  had  turned  his  ankle  in  the  fall,  and  there 
we  sat,  he  with  his  useless  foot,  and  I  with  my 
throbbing  head,  and  we  talked  and  talked  until 
gradually  my  bitterness  began  to  soften  and  to  turn 
into  something  like  sympathy.  What  was  the  use  of 
revenging  his  death  upon  a  man  who  was  as  much 
stricken  by  that  death  as  I  was  ?  And  then,  as  my 
wits  gradually  returned,  I  began  to  realize  also  that  I 
could  do  nothing  against  MacCoy  which  would  not 
recoil  upon  my  mother  and  myself.  How  could  we 
convict  him  without  a  full  account  of  my  brother's 
career  being  made  public — the  very  thing  which  of 
all  others  we  wished  to  avoid  ?  It  was  really  as  much 
our  interest  as  his  to  cover  the  matter  up,  and  from 
being  an  avenger  of  crime  I  found  myself  changed  to 
a  conspirator  against  Justice.  The  place  in  which  we 
found  ourselves  was  one  of  those  pheasant  preserves 
which  are  so  common  in  the  Old  Country,  and  as  we 
groped  our  way  through  it  I  found  myself  consulting 
the  slayer  of  my  brother  as  to  how  far  it  would  be 
possible  to  hush  it  up. 

"I  soon  realized  from  what  he  said  that  unless 
there  were  some  papers  of  which  we  knew  nothing  in 
my  brother's  pockets,  there  was  really  no  possible 
means  by  which  the  police  could  identify  him  or  learn 
how  he  had  got  there.  His  ticket  was  in  MacCoy's 
pocket,  and  so  was  the  ticket  for  some  baggage  which 
they  had  left  at  the  depot.  Like  most  Americans,  he 
had  found  it  cheaper  and  easier  to  buy  an  outfit  in 
London  than  to  bring  one  from  New  York,  so  that  all 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES  63 

his  linen  and  clothes  were  new  and  unmarked.  The 
bag,  containing  the  dust  cloak,  which  I  had  thrown 
out  of  the  window,  may  have  fallen  among  some 
bramble  patch  where  it  is  still  concealed,  or  may  have 
been  carried  off  by  some  tramp,  or  may  have  come  into 
the  possession  of  the  poHce,  who  kept  the  incident  to 
themselves.  Anyhow,  I  have  seen  nothing  about  it  in 
the  London  papers.  As  to  the  watches,  they  were  a 
selection  from  those  which  had  been  intrusted  to  him 
for  business  purposes.  It  may  have  been  for  the  same 
business  purposes  that  he  was  taking  them  to  Man- 
chester, but — well,  it's  too  late  to  enter  into  that. 

"I  don't  blame  the  police  for  being  at  fault.  I 
don't  see  how  it  could  have  been  otherwise.  There 
was  just  one  Httle  clew  that  they  might  have  followed 
up,  but  it  was  a  small  one.  I  mean  that  small  circular 
mirror  which  was  found  in  my  brother's  pocket.  It 
isn't  a  very  common  thing  for  a  young  man  to  carry 
about  with  him,  is  it?  But  a  gambler  might  have 
told  you  what  such  a  mirror  may  mean  to  a  card- 
sharper.  If  you  sit  back  a  little  from  the  table,  and 
lay  the  mirror,  face  upwards,  upon  your  lap,  you  can 
see,  as  you  deal,  every  card  that  you  give  to  your 
adversary.  It  is  not  hard  to  say  whether  you  see  a 
man  or  raise  him  when  you  know  his  cards  as  well  as 
your  own.  It  was  as  much  a  part  of  a  sharper's  outfit 
as  the  elastic  clip  upon  Sparrow  MacCoy's  arm. 
Taking  that,  in  connection  with  the  recent  frauds  at 
the  hotels,  the  police  might  have  got  hold  of  one  end 
of  the  string. 

"I  don't  think  there  Is  much  more  for  me  to 
explain.    We  got  to  a  village  called  Amersham  that 


64  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  WATCHES 

night  in  the  character  of  two  gentlemen  upon  a  walking 
tour,  and  afterwards  we  made  our  way  quietly  to 
London,  whence  MacCoy  went  on  to  Cairo  and  I 
returned  to  New  York.  My  mother  died  six  months 
afterwards,  and  I  am  glad  to  say  that  to  the  day  of 
her  death  she  never  knew  what  happened.  She  was 
always  under  the  delusion  that  Edward  was  earning 
an  honest  living  in  London,  and  I  never  had  the  heart 
to  teU  her  the  truth.  He  never  wrote ;  but,  then,  he 
never  did  write  at  any  time,  so  that  made  no  difference. 
His  name  was  the  last  upon  her  lips. 

"There's  just  one  other  thing  that  I  have  to  ask 
you,  sir,  and  I  should  take  it  as  a  kind  return  for  all 
this  explanation,  if  you  could  do  it  for  me.  You 
remember  that  Testament  that  was  picked  up.  I 
always  carried  it  in  my  inside  pocket,  and  it  must 
have  come  out  in  my  fall.  I  value  it  very  highly,  for 
it  was  the  family  book  with  my  birth  and  my  brother's 
marked  by  my  father  in  the  beginning  of  it.  I  wish 
you  would  apply  at  the  proper  place  and  have  it  sent 
to  ma  It  can  be  of  no  possible  value  to  any  one  else. 
If  you  address  it  to  X,  Bassano's  Library,  Broadway, 
New  York,  it  is  sure  to  come  to  hand." 


THE  POT  OF  CAVIARE 

It  was  the  fourth  day  of  the  siege.  Ammunition  and 
provisions  were  both  nearing  an  end.  When  the 
Boxer  insurrection  had  suddenly  flamed  up,  and  roared, 
like  a  fire  in  dry  grass,  across  Northern  China,  the  few 
scattered  Europeans  in  the  outlying  provinces  had 
huddled  together  at  the  nearest  defensible  post  and  had 
held  on  for  dear  life  until  rescue  came — or  until  it  did 
not.  In  the  latter  case,  the  less  said  about  their  fate 
the  better.  In  the  former,  they  came  back  into  the 
world  of  men  with  that  upon  their  faces  which  told 
that  they  had  looked  very  closely  upon  such  an  end  as 
would  ever  haunt  their  dreams. 

Ichau  was  only  fifty  miles  from  the  coast,  and  there 
was  a  European  squadron  in  the  Gulf  of  Liantong. 
Therefore  the  absurd  little  garrison,  consisting  of 
native  Christians  and  railway  men,  with  a  German 
officer  to  command  them  and  five  civilian  Europeans 
to  support  him,  held  on  bravely  with  the  conviction 
that  help  must  soon  come  sweeping  down  to  them 
from  the  low  hills  to  eastward.  The  sea  was  visible 
from  those  hills,  and  on  the  sea  were  their  armed 
countrymen.  Surely,  then,  they  could  not  feel  deserted. 
With  brave  hearts  they  manned  the  loopholes  in  the 
crumbling   brick  walls   outlining  the  tiny  European 

65  F 


66  THE   POT  OF  CAVIAKE 

quarter,  and  they  fired  away  briskly,  if  ineffectively, 
at  the  rapidly  advancing  sangars  of  the  Boxers.  It 
was  certain  that  in  another  day  or  so  they  would  be  at 
the  end  of  their  resources,  but  then  it  was  equally 
certain  that  in  another  day  or  so  they  must  be  relieved. 
It  might  be  a  little  sooner  or  it  might  be  a  little 
later,  but  there  was  no  one  who  ever  ventured  to  hint 
that  the  relief  would  not  arrive  in  time  to  pluck  them 
out  of  the  fire.  Up  to  Tuesday  night  there  was  ho 
word  of  discouragement. 

It  was  true  that  on  the  Wednesday  their  robust 
faith  in  what  was  going  forward  behind  those  eastern 
hills  had  weakened  a  little.  The  grey  slopes  lay  bare 
and  unresponsive  while  the  deadly  sangars  pushed 
ever  nearer,  so  near  that  the  dreadful  faces  which 
shrieked  imprecations  at  them  from  time  to  time  over 
the  top  could  be  seen  in  every  hideous  feature.  There 
was  not  so  much  of  that  now  since  young  Ainslie,  of 
the  Diplomatic  service,  with  his  neat  little  *303  sport- 
ing rifle,  had  settled  down  in  the  squat  church  tower, 
and  had  devoted  his  days  to  abating  the  nuisance. 
But  a  silent  sangar  is  an  even  more  impressive  thing 
than  a  clamorous  one,  and  steadily,  irresistibly,  inevi- 
tably, the  lines  of  brick  and  rubble  drew  closer.  Soon 
they  would  be  so  near  that  one  rush  would  assuredly 
carry  the  frantic  swordsmen  over  the  frail  entrench- 
ment. It  all  seemed  very  black  upon  the  Wednesday 
evening.  Colonel  Dresler,  the  German  ex-infantry 
soldier,  went  about  with  an  imperturbable  face,  but  a 
heart  of  lead.  Ealston,  of  the  railway,  was  up  half 
the  night  writing  farewell  letters.  Professor  Mercer, 
the  old  entomologist,  was  even  more  silent  and  grimly 


THE  POT  OF  CAVIARE  67 

thoughtful  than  ever.  Ainslie  had  lost  some  of  his 
flippancy.  On  the  whole,  the  ladies — Miss  Sinclair, 
the  nurse  of  the  Scotch  Mission,  Mrs.  Patterson,  and 
her  pretty  daughter  Jessie,  were  the  most  composed 
of  the  party.  Father  Pierre  of  the  French  Mission, 
was  also  unaffected,  as  was  natural  to  one  who  regarded 
martyrdom  as  a  glorious  crown.  The  Boxers  yelling 
for  his  blood  beyond  the  walls  disturbed  him  less  than 
his  forced  association  with  the  sturdy  Scotch  Presby- 
terian presence  of  Mr.  Patterson,  with  whom  for  ten 
years  he  had  wrangled  over  the  souls  of  the  natives. 
They  passed  each  other  now  in  the  corridors  as  dog 
passes  cat,  and  each  kept  a  watchful  eye  upon  the 
other  lest  even  in  the  trenches  he  might  filch  some 
sheep  from  the  rival  fold,  whispering  heresy  in 
his  ear. 

But  the  Wednesday  night  passed  without  a  crisis, 
and  on  the  Thursday  all  was  bright  once  more.  It  was 
Ainslie  up  in  the  clock  tower  who  had  first  heard  the 
distant  thud  of  a  gun.  Then  Dresler  heard  it,  and 
within  half  an  hour  it  was  audible  to  all — that  strong 
iron  voice,  calling  to  them  from  afar  and  bidding  them 
to  be  of  good  cheer,  since  help  was  coming.  It  was 
clear  that  the  landing  party  from  the  squadron  was 
well  on  its  way.  It  would  not  arrive  an  hour  too  soon. 
The  cartridges  were  nearly  finished.  Their  half- rations 
of  food  would  soon  dwindle  to  an  even  more  pitiful 
supply.  But  what  need  to  worry  about  that  now  that 
relief  was  assured?  There  would  be  no  attack  that 
day,  as  most  of  the  Boxers  could  be  seen  streaming  off 
in  the  direction  of  the  distant  firing,  and  the  long 
lines  of  sangars  were  silent  and  deserted.    They  were 


68  THE  POT  OF  CAVIARE 

all  able,  therefore,  to  assemble  at  tbe  lunch-table,  a 
merry,  talkative  party,  full  of  that  joy  of  living 
which  sparkles  most  brightly  under  the  imminent 
shadow  of  death. 

"  The  pot  of  caviare  ! "  cried  Ainslie.  "  Come, 
Professor,  out  with  the  pot  of  caviare !  " 

"  Potz-tausend !  yes,"  grunted  old  Dresler.  "  It  is 
certainly  time  that  we  had  that  famous  pot." 

The  ladies  joined  in,  and  from  all  parts  of  the 
long,  ill-furnished  table  there  came  the  demand  for 
caviare. 

It  was  a  strange  time  to  ask  for  such  a  delicacy, 
but  the  reason  is  soon  told.  Professor  Mercer,  the  old 
Californian  entomologist,  had  received  a  jar  of  caviare 
in  a  hamper  of  goods  from  San  Francisco,  arriving  a 
day  or  two  before  the  outbreak.  In  the  general  pooling 
and  distribution  of  provisions  this  one  dainty  and 
three  bottles  of  Lachryma  Christi  from  the  same 
hamper  had  been  excepted  and  set  aside.  By  common 
consent  they  were  to  be  reserved  for  the  final  joyous 
meal  when  the  end  of  their  peril  should  be  in  sight. 
Even  as  they  sat  the  thud-thud  of  the  relieving  guns 
came  to  their  ears— more  luxurious  music  to  their 
lunch  than  the  most  sybaritic  restaurant  of  London 
could  have  supplied.  Before  evening  the  relief  would 
certainly  be  there.  Why,  then,  should  their  stale  bread 
not  be  glorified  by  the  treasured  caviare  ? 

But  the  Professor  shook  his  gnarled  old  head  and 
smiled  his  inscrutable  smile. 

"  Better  wait,"  said  he. 

*  Wait !     Why  wait  ?  "  cried  the  company. 

"  They  have  still  far  to  come,"  he  answered. 


THE   POT   OF   CAVIARE  69 

"  They  will  be  here  for  supper  at  the  latest,"  said 
Ealston,  of  the  railway — a  keen,  birdlike  man,  with 
bright  eyes  and  long,  projecting  nose.  "  They  cannot 
be  more  than  ten  miles  from  us  now.  If  they  only 
did  two  miles  an  hour  it  would  make  them  due  at 
seven." 

"There  is  a  battle  on  the  way,"  remarked  the 
Colonel.  "You  will  grant  two  hours  or  three  hours 
for  the  battle." 

"  Not  half  an  hour,"  cried  Ainslie.  "  They  will 
walk  through  them  as  if  they  were  not  there.  What 
can  these  rascals  with  their  matchlocks  and  swords  do 
against  modern  weapons  ? " 

"It  depends  on  who  leads  the  column  of  relief," 
said  Dresler.  "  If  they  are  fortunate  enough  to  have  a 
German  officer " 

"  An  Englishman  for  my  money  ! "  cried  Ralston. 

"  The  French  commodore  is  said  to  be  an  excellent 
strategist,"  remarked  Father  Pierre. 

"I  don't  see  that  it  matters  a  toss,"  cried  the 
exuberant  Ainslie.  "Mr.  Mauser  and  Mr.  Maxim 
are  the  two  men  who  will  see  us  through,  and  with 
them  on  our  side  no  leader  can  go  wrong.  I  tell  you 
they  will  just  brush  them  aside  and  walk  through 
them.  So  now,  Professor,  come  on  with  that  pot  of 
caviare ! " 

But  the  old  scientist  was  unconvinced. 

"  We  shall  reserve  it  for  supper,"  said  he. 

"After  all,"  said  Mr.  Patterson,  in  his  slow,  pre- 
cise Scottish  intonation,  "  it  will  be  a  courtesy  to  our 
guests — the  officers  of  the  relief — if  we  have  some 
palatable  food  to  lay  before  them.     I'm  in  agreement 


70  THE  POT  OF  CAYIAEE 

with  the  Professor  that  we  reserve  the  caviare  for 
supper." 

The  argument  appealed  to  their  sense  of  hospi- 
tality. There  was  something  pleasantly  chivalrous, 
too,  in  the  idea  of  keeping  their  one  little  delicacy  to 
give  a  savour  to  the  meal  of  their  preservers.  There 
was  no  more  talk  of  the  caviare. 

"  By  the  way,  Professor,"  said  Mr.  Patterson,  "  I've 
only  heard  to-day  that  this  is  the  second  time  that 
you  have  heen  besieged  in  this  way.  I'm  sure  we 
should  all  be  very  interested  to  hear  some  details  of 
your  previous  experience." 

The  old  man's  face  set  very  grimly. 

"  I  was  in  Sung-tong,  in  South  China,  in  'eighty- 
nine,"  said  he. 

"It's  a  very  extraordinary  coincidence  that  you 
should  twice  have  been  in  such  a  perilous  situation," 
said  the  missionary.  "  Tell  us  how  you  were  relieved 
at  Sung-tong." 

The  shadow  deepened  upon  the  weary  face. 

"  We  were  not  relieved,"  said  he. 

"What!  the  place  fell  ?  " 

"Yes,  it  fell." 

"  And  you  came  through  alive  ? " 

"lama  doctor  as  well  as  an  entomologist.  They 
had  many  wounded ;  they  spared  me." 

"And  the  rest?" 

"  Assez  !  assez ! "  cried  the  little  French  priest, 
raising  his  hand  in  protest.  He  had  been  twenty  years 
in  China.  The  professor  had  said  nothing,  but  there 
was  something,  some  lurking  horror,  in  his  dull,  grey 
eyes  which  had  turned  the  ladies  pale. 


THE  POT  OF  CAVIARE  71 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  the  missionary.  "  I  can  see 
that  it  is  a  painful  subject.  I  should  not  have 
asked.* 

"  No,"  the  Professor  answered,  slowly.  "  It  is  wiser 
not  to  ask.  It  is  better  not  to  speak  about  such 
things  at  all.  But  surely  those  guns  are  very  much 
nearer  ? " 

There  could  be  no  doubt  of  it.  After  a  silence  the 
thud-thud  had  recommenced  with  a  lively  ripple  of 
rifle-fire  playing  all  round  that  deep  bass  master-note. 
It  must  be  just  at  the  farther  side  of  the  nearest  hill. 
They  pushed  back  their  chairs  and  ran  out  to  the  ram- 
parts. The  silent-footed  native  servants  came  in  and 
cleared  the  scanty  remains  from  the  table.  But  after 
they  had  left,  the  old  Professor  sat  on  there,  his  massive, 
grey-crowned  head  leaning  upon  his  hands  and  the 
same  pensive  look  of  horror  in  his  eyes.  Some  ghosts 
may  be  laid  for  years,  but  when  they  do  rise  it  is  not 
so  easy  to  drive  them  back  to  their  slumbers.  The 
guns  had  ceased  outside,  but  he  had  not  observed  it, 
lost  as  he  was  in  the  one  supreme  and  terrible  memory 
of  his  life. 

His  thoughts  were  interrupted  at  last  by  the 
entrance  of  the  Commandant.  There  was  a  complacent 
smile  upon  his  broad  German  face. 

"  The  Kaiser  will  be  pleased,"  said  he,  rubbing  his 
hands.  "  Yes,  certainly  it  should  mean  a  decoration. 
'Defence  of  Ichau  against  the  Boxers  by  Colonel 
Dresler,  late  Major  of  the  114th  Hanoverian  Infantry. 
Splendid  resistance  of  small  garrison  against  over- 
whelming odds.'  It  will  certainly  appear  in  the  Berlin 
papers." 


72  THE   POT   OF   CAVIARE 

"  Then  you  think  we  are  saved  ? "  said  the  old  man, 
with  neither  emotion  nor  exultation  in  his  voice. 

The  Colonel  smiled. 

"  Why,  Professor,"  said  he,  "  I  have  seen  you  more 
excited  on  the  morning  when  you  brought  back  Zepidus 
Mercerensis  in  your  collecting-box." 

"The  fly  was  safe  in  my  collecting-box  first,"  the 
entomologist  answered.  "  I  have  seen  so  many  strange 
turns  of  Fate  in  my  long  life  that  I  do  not  grieve  nor 
do  I  rejoice  until  I  know  that  I  have  cause.  But  tell 
me  the  news." 

"Well,"  said  the  Colonel,  lighting  his  long  pipe, 
and  stretching  his  gaitered  legs  in  the  bamboo  chair, 
"I'll  stake  my  military  reputation  that  all  is  well. 
They  are  advancing  swiftly,  the  firing  has  died  down  to 
show  that  resistance  is  at  an  end,  and  within  an  hour 
we'll  see  them  over  the  brow.  Ainslie  is  to  fire  his 
gun  three  times  from  the  church  tower  as  a  signal, 
and  then  we  shall  make  a  little  sally  on  our  own 
account." 

"  And  you  are  waiting  for  this  signal  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  are  waiting  for  Ainslie's  shots.  I  thought 
I  would  spend  the  time  with  you,  for  I  had  something 
to  ask  you." 

"What  was  it?" 

"  Well,  you  remember  your  talk  about  the  other 
siege— the  siege  of  Sung-tong.  It  interests  me  very 
much  from  a  professional  point  of  view.  Now  that  the 
ladies  and  civilians  are  gone  you  will  have  no  objection 
to  discussing  it." 

"  It  is  not  a  pleasant  subject." 

"  No,  I  dare  say  not.     Mein  Gott !  it  was  indeed  a 


THE   POT  OF   CAVIARE  73 

tragedy.  But  you  have  seen  how  I  have  conducted  the 
defence  here.  Was  it  wise  ?  Was  it  good  ?  Was  it 
worthy  of  the  traditions  of  the  German  army  ?  " 
"  I  think  you  could  have  done  no  more." 
"  Thank  you.  But  this  other  place,  was  it  as  ably 
defended  ?  To  me  a  comparison  of  this  sort  is  very 
interesting.     Could  it  have  been  saved  ? " 

"  No ;  everything  possible  was  done — save  only  one 
thing." 

"  Ah !  there  was  one  omission.     What  was  it  ? " 
"  No  one — above  all,  no  woman — should  have  been 
allowed  to  fall  alive  into  the  hands  of  the  Chinese." 

The  Colonel  held  out  his  broad  red  hand  and 
enfolded  the  long,  white,  nervous  fingers  of  the 
Professor. 

*  You  are  right — a  thousand  times  right.  But  do 
not  think  that  this  has  escaped  my  thoughts.  For 
myself  I  would  die  fighting,  so  would  Kalston,  so  would 
Ainslie.  I  have  talked  to  them,  and  it  is  settled.  But 
the  others,  I  have  spoken  with  them,  but  what  are  you 
to  do  ?  There  are  the  priest,  and  the  missionary,  and 
the  women." 

11  Would  they  wish  to  be  taken  alive  ?  " 
"  They  would  not  promise  to  take  steps  to  prevent 
it.  They  would  not  lay  hands  on  their  own  lives. 
Their  consciences  would  not  permit  it.  Of  course,  it  is 
all  over  now,  and  we  need  not  speak  of  such  dreadful 
things.  But  what  would  you  have  done  in  my  place  ? " 
"  Kill  them." 

"  Mein  Gott !     You  would  murder  them  ?  " 
"  In  mercy  I  would  kill  them.     Man,  I  have  been 
through  it.     I  have  seen  the  death  of  the  hot  eggs ;  I 


74  THE  POT  OF  CAVIAKE 

have  seen  the  death  of  the  boiling  kettle ;  I  have  seen 
the  women — my  God !  I  wonder  that  I  have  ever  slept 
sound  again."  His  usually  impassive  face  was  work- 
ing and  quivering  with  the  agony  of  the  remembrance. 
"  I  was  strapped  to  a  stake  with  thorns  in  my  eyelids 
to  keep  them  open,  and  my  grief  at  their  torture  was  a 
less  thing  than  my  self-reproach  when  I  thought  that 
I  could  with  one  tube  of  tasteless  tablets  have  snatched 
them  at  the  last  instant  from  the  hands  of  their  tor- 
mentors. Murder !  I  am  ready  to  stand  at  the  Divine 
bar  and  answer  for  a  thousand  murders  such  as  that ! 
Sin  !  Why,  it  is  such  an  act  as  might  well  cleanse  the 
stain  of  real  sin  from  the  soul.  But  if,  knowing  what 
I  do,  I  should  have  failed  this  second  time  to  do  it, 
then,  by  Heaven !  there  is  no  hell  deep  enough  or  hot 
enough  to  receive  my  guilty  craven  spirit." 

The  Colonel  rose,  and  again  his  hand  clasped  that 
of  the  Professor. 

"You  speak  sense,"  said  he.  "You  are  a  brave, 
strong  man,  who  know  your  own  mind.  Yes,  by  the 
Lord !  you  would  have  been  my  great  help  had  things 
gone  the  other  way.  I  have  often  thought  and  won- 
dered in  the  dark,  early  hours  of  the  morning,  but  I  did 
not  know  how  to  do  it.  But  we  should  have  heard 
Ainslie's  shots  before  now ;  I  will  go  and  see." 

Again  the  old  scientist  sat  alone  with  his  thoughts. 
Finally,  as  neither  the  guns  of  the  relieving  force  nor 
yet  the  signal  of  their  approach  sounded  upon  his  ear3, 
he  rose,  and  was  about  to  go  himself  upon  the  ramparts 
to  make  inquiry  when  the  door  flew  open,  and  Colonel 
Dresler  staggered  into  the  room.  His  face  was  of  a 
ghastly  yellow-white,  and  his  chest  heaved  like  that  of 


THE   POT  OF   CAYIAEE  75 

a  man  exhausted  with  running.  There  was  brandy  on 
the  side-table,  and  he  gulped  down  a  glassful.  Then 
he  dropped  heavily  into  a  chair. 

"Well/'  said  the  Professor,  coldly,  "they  are  not 
coming?" 

*  No,  they  cannot  come." 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute  or  more,  the  two 
men  staring  blankly  at  each  other. 

"  Do  they  all  know  ?  * 

"  No  one  knows  but  me." 

"  How  did  you  learn  ? " 

■  I  was  at  the  wall  near  the  postern  gate — the  little 
wooden  gate  that  opens  on  the  rose  garden.  I  saw 
something  crawling  among  the  bushes.  There  was  a 
knocking  at  the  door.  I  opened  ifc.  It  was  a  Christian 
Tartar,  badly  cut  about  with  swords.  He  had  come 
from  the  battle.  Commodore  Wyndham,  the  English- 
man, had  sent  him.  The  relieving  force  had  been 
checked.  They  had  shot  away  most  of  their  ammuni- 
tion. They  had  entrenched  themselves  and  sent  back 
to  the  ships  for  more.  Three  days  must  pass  before 
they  could  come.  That  was  all.  Mein  Gott !  it  was 
enough." 

The  Professor  bent  his  shaggy  grey  brows. 

"  Where  is  the  man  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  He  is  dead.  He  died  of  loss  of  blood.  His  body 
lies  at  the  postern  gate." 

"  And  no  one  saw  him  ? " 

"  Not  to  speak  to." 

"  Oh !  they  did  see  him,  then  ? " 

"Ainslie  must  have  seen  him  from  the  church 
tower.     He  must  know  that  I  have  had  tidings.    He 


76  THE   POT   OF   CAVIAKE 

will  want  to  know  what  they  are.  If  I  tell  him  they 
must  all  know." 

"  How  long  can  we  hold  out  ? " 

"  An  hour  or  two  at  the  most." 

"  Is  that  absolutely  certain  ?  " 

"  I  pledge  my  credit  as  a  soldier  upon  it." 

"  Then  we  must  fall  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  must  fall." 

"  There  is  no  hope  for  us  ?  " 

"  None." 

The  door  flew  open  and  young  Ainslie  rushed  in. 
Behind  him  crowded  Ealston,  Patterson,  and  a  crowd 
of  white  men  and  of  native  Christians. 

"  You've  had  news,  Colonel  ?  " 

Professor  Mercer  pushed  to  the  front. 

"  Colonel  Dresler  has  just  been  telling  me.  It  is 
all  right.  They  have  halted,  but  will  be  here  in  the 
early  morning.     There  is  no  longer  any  danger." 

A  cheer  broke  from  the  group  in  the  doorway. 
Everyone  was  laughing  and  shaking  hands. 

"  But  suppose  they  rush  us  before  to-morrow  morn- 
ing?" cried  Ealston,  in  a  petulant  voice.  "What 
infernal  fools  these  fellows  are  not  to  push  on  !  Lazy 
devils,  they  should  be  court-martialled,  every  man  of 
them." 

"  It's  all  safe,"  said  Ainslie.  "  These  fellows  have 
had  a  bad  knock.  We  can  see  their  wounded  being 
carried  by  the  hundred  over  the  hill.  They  must  have 
lost  heavily.     They  won't  attack  before  morning." 

"No,  no,"  said  the  Colonel;  "it  is  certain  that 
they  won't  attack  before  morning.  None  the  less,  get 
back  to  your  posts.     We  must  give  no  point  away." 


THE  POT  OP  CAVIAKE  77 

He  left  the  room  with  the  rest,  but  as  he  did  so  he 
looked  back,  and  his  eyes  for  an  instant  met  those  of 
the  old  Professor.  "  I  leave  it  in  your  hands,"  was  the 
message  which  he  flashed.  A  stern  set  smile  was  his 
answer. 

The  afternoon  wore  away  without  the  Boxers  making 
their  last  attack.  To  Colonel  Dresler  it  was  clear  that 
the  unwonted  stillness  meant  only  that  they  were  re- 
assembling their  forces  from  their  fight  with  the  relief 
column,  and  were  gathering  themselves  for  the  inevit- 
able and  final  rush.  To  all  the  others  it  appeared  that 
the  siege  was  indeed  over,  and  that  the  assailants  had 
been  crippled  by  the  losses  which  they  had  already 
sustained.  It  was  a  joyous  and  noisy  party,  therefore, 
which  met  at  the  supper- table,  when  the  three  bottles 
of  Lachryma  Christi  were  uncorked  and  the  famous 
port  of  caviare  was  finally  opened.  It  was  a  large  jar, 
and,  though  each  had  a  tablespoonful  of  the  delicacy, 
it  was  by  no  means  exhausted.  Ealston,  who  was  an 
epicure,  had  a  double  allowance.  He  pecked  away  at 
it  like  a  hungry  bird.  Ainslie,  too,  had  a  second  help- 
ing. The  Professor  took  a  large  spoonful  himself,  and 
Colonel  Dresler,  watching  him  narrowly,  did  the  same. 
The  ladies  ate  freely,  save  only  pretty  Miss  Patterson, 
who  disliked  the  salty,  pungent  taste.  In  spite  of  the 
hospitable  entreaties  of  the  Professor,  her  portion  lay 
hardly  touched  at  the  side  of  her  plate. 

"  You  don't  like  my  little  delicacy.  It  is  a  dis- 
appointment to  me  when  I  had  kept  it  for  your 
pleaasure,"  said  the  old  man.  "I  beg  that  you  will 
eat  the  caviare." 


78  THE  POT  OF  CAVIARE 

"  I  have  never  tasted  it  before.  No  doubt  I  should 
like  it  in  time." 

"Well,  you  must  make  a  beginning.  Why  not 
start  to  educate  your  taste  now  ?     Do,  please !  " 

Pretty  Jessie  Patterson's  bright  face  shone  with  her 
sunny,  boyish  smile. 

"  Why,  how  earnest  you  are !  "  she  laughed.  "  I 
had  no  idea  you  were  so  polite,  Professor  Mercer.  Even 
if  I  do  not  eat  it  I  am  just  as  grateful." 

*  You  are  foolish  not  to  eat  it,"  said  the  Professor, 
with  such  intensity  that  the  smile  died  from  her  face 
and  her  eyes  reflected  the  earnestness  of  his  own.  "  I 
tell  you  it  is  foolish  not  to  eat  caviare  to-night." 

"  But  why — why  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Because  you  have  it  on  your  plate.  Because  it 
is  sinful  to  waste  it." 

"  There !  there ! "  said  stout  Mrs.  Patterson,  lean- 
ing across.  "  Don't  trouble  her  any  more.  I  can 
see  that  she  does  not  like  it.  But  it  shall  not  be 
wasted."  She  passed  the  blade  of  her  knife  under  it, 
and  scraped  it  from  Jessie's  plate  on  to  her  own. 
u  Now  it  won't  be  wasted.  Your  mind  will  be  at 
ease,  Professor." 

But  it  did  not  seem  at  ease.  On  the  contrary,  his 
face  was  agitated  like  that  of  a  man  who  encounters  an 
unexpected  and  formidable  obstacle.  He  was  lost  in 
thought. 

The  conversation  buzzed  cheerily.  Everyone  was 
full  of  his  future  plans. 

"  No,  no,  there  is  no  holiday  for  me,"  said  Father 
Pierre.  "  We  priests  don't  get  holidays.  Now  that 
the  mission  and  school  are  formed  I  am  to  leave  it 


THE   POT  OF   CAVIARE  79 

to  Father  Aniiel,  and  to  push  westwards  to  found 
another." 

"You  are  leaving?"  said  Mr.  Patterson.  "You 
don't  mean  that  you  are  going  away  from  Ichau  ? " 

Father  Pierre  shook  his  venerable  head  in  waggish 
reproof.  "You  must  not  look  so  pleased,  Mr.  Patter- 
son." 

"  Well,  well,  our  views  are  very  different,"  said  the 
Presbyterian,  "  but  there  is  no  personal  feeling  towards 
you,  Father  Pierre.  At  the  same  time,  how  any 
reasonable  educated  man  at  this  time  of  the  world's 
history  can  teach  these  poor  benighted  heathen 
that " 

A  general  buzz  of  remonstrance  silenced  the 
theology. 

"  What  will  you  do  yourself,  Mr.  Patterson  ? "  asked 
someone. 

"Well,  I'll  take  three  months  in  Edinburgh  to 
attend  the  annual  meeting.  You'll  be  glad  to  do  some 
shopping  in  Princes  Street,  I'm  thinking,  Mary.  And 
you,  Jessie,  you'll  see  some  folk  your  own  age.  Then 
we  can  come  back  in  the  fall,  when  your  nerves  have 
had  a  rest." 

"  Indeed,  we  shall  all  need  it,"  said  Miss  Sinclair, 
the  mission  nurse.  "  You  know,  this  long  strain  takes 
me  in  the  strangest  way.  At  the  present  moment  I 
can  hear  such  a  buzzing  in  my  ears." 

"Well,  that's  funny,  for  it's  just  the  same  with 
me,"  cried  Ainslie.  "  An  absurd  up-and-down  buzzing, 
as  if  a  drunken  bluebottle  were  trying  experiments 
on  his  register.  As  you  say,  it  must  be  due  to 
nervous  strain.     For    my  part  I  am  going  back   to 


80  THE   POT  OF  CAVIARE 

Peking,  and  I  hope  I  may  get  some  promotion  over 
this  affair.  I  can  get  good  polo  here,  and  that's  as 
fine  a  change  of  thought  as  I  know.  How  about  you, 
Ealston?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I've  hardly  had  time  to  think. 
I  want  to  have  a  real  good  sunny,  bright  holiday  and 
forget  it  all.  It  was  funny  to  see  all  the  letters  in 
my  room.  It  looked  so  black  on  Wednesday  night 
that  I  had  settled  up  my  affairs  and  written  to  all  my 
friends.  I  don't  quite  know  how  they  were  to  be 
delivered,  but  I  trusted  to  luck.  I  think  I  will  keep 
those  papers  as  a  souvenir.  They  will  always  remind 
me  of  how  close  a  shave  we  have  had." 

"  Yes,  I  would  keep  them,"  said  Dresler. 

His  voice  was  so  deep  and  solemn  that  every  eye 
was  turned  upon  him. 

"  What  is  it,  Colonel  ?  You  seem  in  the  blues  to- 
night."    It  was  Ainslie  who  spoke. 

"  No,  no  ;  I  am  very  contented." 

"  Well,  so  you  should  be  when  you  see  success  in 
sight.  I  am  sure  we  are  all  indebted  to  you  for  your 
science  and  skill.  I  don't  think  we  could  have  held 
the  place  without  you.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  ask 
you  to  drink  the  health  of  Colonel  Dresler,  of  the 
Imperial  German  army.     Er  soil  leben — hoch  ! " 

They  all  stood  up  and  raised  their  glasses  to  the 
soldier,  with  smiles  and  bows. 

His  pale  face  flushed  with  professional  pride. 

"  I  have  always  kept  my  books  with  me.     I  have 

forgotten  nothing,"  said  he.     "I   do   not   think  that 

more  could  be  done.     If  things  had  gone  wrong  with 

*us  and  the  place  had  fallen  you  would,  I  am  sure,  have 


THE   POT   OF  CAVIAKE  81 

freed  me  from  any  blame  or  responsibility."  He  looked 
wistfully  round  him. 

"I'm  voicing  the  sentiments  of  this  company, 
Colonel  Dresler,"  said  the  Scotch  minister,  "  when  I 

say but,  Lord  save  us!   what's  amiss  with  Mr. 

Ealston  ? " 

He  had  dropped  his  face  upon  his  folded  arms  and 
was  placidly  sleeping. 

"Don't  mind  him,"  said  the  Professor,  hurriedly. 
"  We  are  all  in  the  stage  of  reaction  now.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  we  are  all  liable  to  collapse.  It  is  only 
to-night  that  we  shall  feel  what  we  have  gone  through." 

"  I'm  sure  I  can  fully  sympathize  with  him,"  said 
Mrs.  Patterson.  "I  don't  know  when  I  have  been 
more  sleepy.  I  can  hardly  hold  my  own  head  up." 
She  cuddled  back  in  her  chair  and  shut  her  eyes. 

"Well,  I've  never  known  Mary  do  that  before," 
cried  her  husband,  laughing  heartily.  "  Gone  to  sleep 
over  her  supper  !  What  ever  will  she  think  when  we 
tell  her  of  it  afterwards  ?  But  the  air  does  seem  hot 
and  heavy.  I  can  certainly  excuse  any  one  who  falls 
asleep  to-night.  I  think  that  I  shall  turn  in  early 
myself." 

Ainslie  was  in  a  talkative,  excited  mood.  He  was 
on  his  feet  once  more  with  his  glass  in  his  hand. 

"I  think  that  we  ought  to  have  one  drink  all 
together,  and  then  sing  '  Auld  Lang  Syne/ "  said  he, 
smiling  round  at  the  company.  "  For  a  week  we  have 
all  pulled  in  the  same  boat,  and  we've  got  to  know 
each  other  as  people  never  do  in  the  quiet  days  of 
peace.  We've  learned  to  appreciate  each  other,  and 
we've    learned    to    appreciate    each    other's    nations. 

a 


82  THE  POT  OF  CAVIARE 

There's  the  Colonel  here  stands  for  Germany.  And 
Father  Pierre  is  for  France.  Then  there's  the  Pro- 
fessor for  America.  Ealston  and  I  are  Britishers. 
Then  there's  the  ladies,  God  bless  'em!  They  have 
been  angels  of  mercy  and  compassion  all  through  the 
siege.  I  think  we  should  drink  the  health  of  the  ladies. 
Wonderful  thing — the  quiet  courage,  the  patience,  the 
— what  shall  I  say? — the  fortitude,  the — the — by 
George,  look  at  the  Colonel !  He's  gone  to  sleep,  too — 
most  infernal  sleepy  weather."  His  glass  crashed 
down  upon  the  table,  and  he  sank  back,  mumbling  and 
muttering,  into  his  seat.  Miss  Sinclair,  the  pale 
mission  nurse,  had  dropped  off  also.  She  lay  like  a 
broken  lily  across  the  arm  of  her  chair.  Mr.  Patterson 
looked  round  him  and  sprang  to  his  feet.  He  passed 
his  hand  over  his  flushed  forehead. 

"  This  isn't  natural,  Jessie,"  he  cried.  "  Why  are 
they  all  asleep  ?  There's  Father  Pierre — he's  off  too. 
Jessie,  Jessie,  your  mother  is  cold.  Is  it  sleep  ?  Is  it 
death  ?  Open  the  windows !  Help  !  help !  help !  " 
He  staggered  to  his  feet  and  rushed  to  the  windows, 
but  midway  his  head  spun  round,  his  knees  sank  under 
him,  and  he  pitched  forward  upon  his  face. 

The  young  girl  had  also  sprung  to  her  feet.  She 
looked  round  her  with  horror-stricken  eyes  at  her 
prostrate  father  and  the  silent  ring  of  figures. 

«  Professor  Mercer  !  What  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ? " 
she  cried.  "  Oh,  my  God,  they  are  dying !  They  are 
dead ! " 

The  old  man  had  raised  himself  by  a  supreme 
effort  of  his  will,  though  the  darkness  was  already 
gathering  thickly  round  him. 


THE  POT  OF  CAVIARE  83 

"My  dear  young  lady,"  he  said,  stuttering  and 
stumbling  over  the  words,  *  we  would  have  spared  you 
this.  It  would  have  been  painless  to  mind  and  body. 
It  was  cyanide.  I  had  it  in  the  caviare.  But  you 
would  not  have  it." 

■  Great  Heaven  !  "  She  shrank  away  from  him 
with  dilated  eyes.  "  Oh,  you  monster !  You  monster ! 
You  have  poisoned  them ! " 

"No,  no!  I  saved  them.  You  don't  know  the 
Chinese.  They  are  horrible.  In  another  hour  we 
should  all  have  been  in  their  hands.  Take  it  now, 
child."  Even  as  he  spoke,  a  burst  of  firing  broke  out 
under  the  very  windows  of  the  room.  "  Hark !  There 
they  are!  Quick,  dear,  quick,  you  may  cheat  them 
yet !  "  But  his  words  fell  upon  deaf  ears,  for  the  girl 
had  sunk  back  senseless  in  her  chair.  The  old  man 
stood  listening  for  an  instant  to  the  firing  outside. 
But  what  was  that  ?  Merciful  Father,  what  was  that  ? 
Was  he  going  mad  ?  Was  it  the  effect  of  the  drug  ? 
Surely  it  was  a  European  cheer?  Yes,  there  were 
sharp  orders  in  English.  There  was  the  shouting  of 
sailors.  He  could  no  longer  doubt  it.  By  some 
miracle  the  relief  had  come  after  all.  He  threw  his 
long  arms  upwards  in  his  despair.  "What  have  I 
done  ?  Oh,  good  Lord,  what  have  I  done  ? "  he 
cried. 

It  was  Commodore  Wyndham  himself  who  was  the 
first,  after  his  desperate  and  successful  night  attack,  to 
burst  into  that  terrible  supper-room.  Bound  the  table 
sat  the  white  and  silent  company.  Only  in  the  young 
girl  who  moaned  and  faintly  stirred  was  any  sign  of 


84  THE  POT  OF  CAVIARE 

life  to  be  seen.  And  yet  there  was  one  in  the  circle 
who  had  the  energy  for  a  last  supreme  duty.  The 
Commodore,  standing  stupefied  at  the  door,  saw  a  grey 
head  slowly  lifted  from  the  table,  and  the  tall  form  of 
the  Professor  staggered  for  an  instant  to  its  feet. 

"  Take  care  of  the  caviare  !  For  God's  sake,  don't 
touch  the  caviare !  "  he  croaked. 

Then  he  sank  back  once  more  and  the  circle  of 
death  was  complete. 


THE  JAPANNED  BOX 

It  was  a  curious  thing,  said  the  private  tutor;  one  of 
those  grotesque  and  whimsical  incidents  which  occur  to 
one  as  one  goes  through  life.  I  lost  the  best  situation 
which  I  am  ever  likely  to  have  through  it.  But  I  am 
glad  that  I  went  to  Thorpe  Place,  for  I  gained — well, 
as  I  tell  you  the  story  you  will  learn  what  I  gained. 

I  don't  know  whether  you  are  familiar  with  that 
part  of  the  Midlands  which  is  drained  by  the  Avon. 
It  is  the  most  English  part  of  England.  Shakespeare, 
the  flower  of  the  whole  race,  was  born  right  in  the 
middle  of  it.  It  is  a  land  of  rolling  pastures,  rising  in 
higher  folds  to  the  westward,  until  they  swell  into  the 
Malvern  Hills.  There  are  no  towns,  but  numerous 
villages,  each  with  its  grey  Norman  church.  You  have 
left  the  brick  of  the  southern  and  eastern  counties 
behind  you,  and  everything  is  stone — stone  for  the 
walls,  and  lichened  slabs  of  stone  for  the  roofs.  It  is 
all  grim  and  solid  and  massive,  as  befits  the  heart  of  a 
great  nation. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  this  country,  not  very  far 
from  Evesham,  that  Sir  John  Bollamore  lived  in  the 
old  ancestral  home  of  Thorpe  Place,  and  thither  it  was 
that  I  came  to  teach  his  two  little  sons.  Sir  John  was 
a  widower — his  wife  had  died  three  years  before — and 

85 


86  THE  JAPANNED  BOX 

he  had  been  left  with  these  two  lads  aged  eight  and 
ten,  and  one  dear  little  girl  of  seven.  Miss  Witherton, 
who  is  now  my  wife,  was  governess  to  this  little  girl. 
I  was  tutor  to  the  two  boys.  Could  there  be  a  more 
obvious  prelude  to  an  engagement?  She  governs  me 
now,  and  I  tutor  two  little  boys  of  our  own.  But, 
there — I  have  already  revealed  what  it  was  which  I 
gained  in  Thorpe  Place ! 

It  was  a  very,  very  old  house,  incredibly  old — pre- 
Norman,  some  of  it — and  the  Bollamores  claimed  to 
have  lived  in  that  situation  since  long  before  the 
Conquest.  It  struck  a  chill  to  my  heart  when  first  I 
came  there,  those  enormously  thick  grey  walls,  the 
rude  crumbliug  stones,  the  smell  as  from  a  sick  animal 
which  exhaled  from  the  rotting  plaster  of  the  aged 
building.  But  the  modern  wing  was  bright  and  the 
garden  was  well  kept.  No  house  could  be  dismal 
which  had  a  pretty  girl  inside  it  and  such  a  show  of 
roses  in  front. 

Apart  from  a  very  complete  staff  of  servants  there 
were  only  four  of  us  in  the  household.  These  were 
Miss  Witherton,  who  was  at  that  time  four-and-twenty 
and  as  pretty — well,  as  pretty  as  Mrs.  Colmore  is  now 
— myself,  Frank  Colmore,  aged  thirty,  Mrs.  Stevens, 
the  housekeeper,  a  dry,  silent  woman,  and  Mr.  Eichards, 
a  tall,  military-looking  man,  who  acted  as  steward  to 
the  Bollamore  estates.  We  four  always  had  our  meals 
together,  but  Sir  John  had  his  usually  alone  in  the 
library.  Sometimes  he  joined  us  at  dinner,  but  on  the 
whole  we  were  just  as  glad  when  he  did  not. 

For  he  was  a  very  formidable  person.  Imagine  a 
man  six  feet  three  inches  in  height,  majestically  built, 


THE  JAPANNED  BOX  87 

with  a  high-nosed,  aristocratic  face,  brindled  hair, 
shaggy  eyebrows,  a  small,  pointed  Mephistophelian 
beard,  and  lines  upon  his  brow  and  round  his  eyes  as 
deep  as  if  they  had  been  carved  with  a  penknife.  He 
had  grey  eyes,  weary,  hopeless-looking  eyes,  proud  and 
yet  pathetic,  eyes  which  claimed  your  pity  and  yet 
dared  you  to  show  it.  His  back  was  rounded  with 
study,  but  otherwise  he  was  as  fine  a  looking  man  of 
his  age — five-and-fifty  perhaps — as  any  woman  would 
wish  to  look  upon. 

But  his  presence  was  not  a  cheerful  one.  He  was 
always  courteous,  always  refined,  but  singularly  silent 
and  retiring.  I  have  never  lived  so  long  with  any  man 
and  known  so  little  of  him.  If  he  were  indoors  he 
spent  his  time  either  in  his  own  small  study  in  the 
Eastern  Tower,  or  in  the  library  in  the  modern  wing. 
So  regular  was  his  routine  that  one  could  always  say 
at  any  hour  exactly  where  he  would  be.  Twice  in  the 
day  he  would  visit  his  study,  once  after  breakfast,  and 
once  about  ten  at  night.  You  might  set  your  watch 
by  the  slam  of  the  heavy  door.  For  the  rest  of  the 
day  he  would  be  in  his  library— save  that  for  an  hour 
or  two  in  the  afternoon  he  would  take  a  walk  or  a  ride, 
which  was  solitary  like  the  rest  of  his  existence.  He 
loved  his  children,  and  was  keenly  interested  in  the 
progress  of  their  studies,  but  they  were  a  little  awed 
by  the  silent,  shaggy-browed  figure,  and  they  avoided 
him  as  much  as  they  could.     Indeed,  we  all  did  that. 

It  was  some  time  before  I  came  to  know  anything 
about  the  circumstances  of  Sir  John  Bollamore's  life, 
for  Mrs.  Stevens,  the  housekeeper,  and  Mr.  Eichards, 
the  land -steward,  were  too  loyal  to  talk  easily  of  their 


88  THE  JAPANNED  BOX 

employer's  affairs.  As  to  the  governess,  she  knew  no 
more  than  I  did,  and  our  common  interest  was  one  of 
the  causes  which  drew  us  together.  At  last,  however, 
an  incident  occurred  which  led  to  a  closer  acquaintance 
with  Mr.  Eichards  and  a  fuller  knowledge  of  the  life  of 
the  man  whom  I  served. 

The  immediate  cause  of  this  was  no  less  than  the 
falling  of  Master  Percy,  the  youngest  of  my  pupils, 
into  the  mill-race,  with  imminent  danger  both  to  his 
life  and  to  mine,  since  I  had  to  risk  myself  in  order 
to  save  him.  Dripping  and  exhausted — for  I  was  far 
more  spent  than  the  child — I  was  making  for  my  room 
when  Sir  John,  who  had  heard  the  hubbub,  opened  the 
door  of  his  little  study  and  asked  me  what  was  the 
matter.  I  told  him  of  the  accident,  but  assured  him 
that  his  child  was  in  no  danger,  while  he  listened  with 
a  rugged,  immobile  face,  which  expressed  in  its  intense 
eyes  and  tightened  lips  all  the  emotion  which  he  tried 
to  conceal. 

"One  moment!  Step  in  here!  Let  me  have  the 
details!"  said  he,  turning  back  through  the  open 
door. 

And  so  I  found  myself  within  that  little  sanctum, 
inside  which,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  no  other  foot  had 
for  three  years  been  set  save  that  of  the  old  servant 
who  cleaned  it  out.  It  was  a  round  room,  conforming 
to  the  shape  of  the  tower  in  which  it  was  situated,  with 
a  low  ceiling,  a  single  narrow,  ivy-wreathed  window, 
and  the  simplest  of  furniture.  An  old  carpet,  a  single 
chair,  a  deal  table,  and  a  small  shelf  of  books  made  up 
the  whole  contents.  On  the  table  stood  a  full-length 
photograph  of  a  woman — I  took  no  particular  notice  of 


THE  JAPANNED  BOX  89 

the  features,  but  I  remember  that  a  certain  gracious 
gentleness  was  the  prevailing  impression.  Beside  it 
were  a  large  black  japanned  box  and  one  or  two 
bundles  of  letters  or  papers  fastened  together  with 
elastic  bands. 

Our  interview  was  a  short  one,  for  Sir  John  Bolla- 
more  perceived  that  I  was  soaked,  and  that  I  should 
change  without  delay.  The  incident  led,  however,  to 
an  instructive  talk  with  Bichards,  the  agent,  who  had 
never  penetrated  into  the  chamber  which  chance  had 
opened  to  me.  That  very  afternoon  he  came  to  me, 
all  curiosity,  and  walked  up  and  down  the  garden  path 
with  me,  while  my  two  charges  played  tennis  upon  the 
lawn  beside  us. 

"  You  hardly  realize  the  exception  which  has  been 
made  in  your  favour,"  said  he.  "  That  room  has  been 
kept  such  a  mystery,  and  Sir  John's  visits  to  it  have 
been  so  regular  and  consistent,  that  an  almost  super- 
stitious feeling  has  arisen  about  it  in  the  household. 
I  assure  you  that  if  I  were  to  repeat  to  you  the  tales 
which  are  flying  about,  tales  of  mysterious  visitors 
there,  and  of  voices  overheard  by  the  servants,  you 
might  suspect  that  Sir  John  had  relapsed  into  his 
old  ways." 

"  Why  do  you  say  relapsed  ? "  I  asked. 

He  looked  at  me  in  surprise. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  said  he,  "  that  Sir  John  Bollamore's 
previous  history  is  unknown  to  you  ? " 

"Absolutely." 

"You  astound  me.  I  thought  that  every  man  in 
England  knew  something  of  his  antecedents.  I  should 
not  mention  the  matter  if  it  were  not  that  you  are  now 


90  THE  JAPANNED  BOX 

one  of  ourselves,  and  that  the  facts  might  come  to  your 
ears  in  some  harsher  form  if  I  were  silent  upon  them. 
I  always  took  it  for  granted  that  you  knew  that  you 
were  in  the  service  of  '  Devil '  Bollamore." 

"  But  why  *  Devil '  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Ah,  you  are  young  and  the  world  moves  fast,  but 
twenty  years  ago  the  name  of  ■  Devil '  Bollamore  was 
one  of  the  best  known  in  London.  He  was  the  leader 
of  the  fastest  set,  bruiser,  driver,  gambler,  drunkard — 
a  survival  of  the  old  type,  and  as  bad  as  the  worst 
of  them." 

I  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

"What!"  I  cried,  "that  quiet,  studious,  sad-faced 
man?" 

"  The  greatest  rip  and  debauchee  in  England !  All 
between  ourselves,  Colmore.  But  you  understand  now 
what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  a  woman's  voice  in  his 
room  might  even  now  give  rise  to  suspicions." 

"  But  what  can  have  changed  him  so  ? " 

"Little  Beryl  Clare,  when  she  took  the  risk  of 
becoming  his  wife.  That  was  the  turning  point.  He 
had  got  so  far  that  his  own  fast  set  had  thrown  him 
over.  There  is  a  world  of  difference,  you  know, 
between  a  man  who  drinks  and  a  drunkard.  They  all 
drink,  but  they  taboo  a  drunkard.  He  had  become 
a  slave  to  it — hopeless  and  helpless.  Then  she  stepped 
in,  saw  the  possibilities  of  a  fine  man  in  the  wreck, 
took  her  chance  in  marrying  him,  though  she  might 
have  had  the  pick  of  a  dozen,  and,  by  devoting  her 
life  to  it,  brought  him  back  to  manhood  and  decency. 
You  have  observed  that  no  liquor  is  ever  kept  in  the 
house.     There  never   has  been  any  since  her   foot 


THE  JAPANNED  BOX  91 

crossed  its  threshold.  A  drop  of  it  would  be  like 
blood  to  a  tiger  even  now." 

"  Then  her  influence  still  holds  him  ?  ? 

"  That  is  the  wonder  of  it.  When  she  died  three 
years  ago,  we  all  expected  and  feared  that  he  would 
fall  back  into  his  old  ways.  She  feared  it  herself,  and 
the  thought  gave  a  terror  to  death,  for  she  was  like 
a  guardian  angel  to  that  man,  and  lived  only  for  the 
one  purpose.  By  the  way,  did  you  see  a  black  japanned 
box  in  his  room  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"I  fancy  it  contains  her  letters.  If  ever  he  has 
occasion  to  be  away,  if  only  for  a  single  night,  he 
invariably  takes  his  black  japanned  box  with  him. 
Well,  well,  Colmore,  perhaps  I  have  told  you  rather 
more  than  I  should,  but  I  shall  expect  you  to  recipro- 
cate if  anything  of  interest  should  come  to  your  know- 
ledge." I  could  see  that  the  worthy  man  was  consumed 
with  curiosity  and  just  a  little  piqued  that  I,  the  new- 
comer, should  have  been  the  first  to  penetrate  into  the 
untrodden  chamber.  But  the  fact  raised  me  in  his 
esteem,  and  from  that  time  onwards  I  found  myself 
upon  more  confidential  terms  with  him. 

And  now  the  silent  and  majestic  figure  of  my 
employer  became  an  object  of  greater  interest  to  me. 
I  began  to  understand  that  strangely  human  look  in 
his  eyes,  those  deep  lines  upon  his  careworn  face.  He 
was  a  man  who  was  fighting  a  ceaseless  battle,  holding 
at  arm's  length,  from  morning  till  night,  a  horrible 
adversary,  who  was  for  ever  trying  to  close  with  him — 
an  adversary  which  would  destroy  him  body  and  soul 
could  it  but  fix  its  claws  once  more  upon  him.    As 


92  THE  JAPANNED  BOX 

I  watched  the  grim,  round-backed  figure  pacing  the 
corridor  or  walking  in  the  garden,  this  imminent 
danger  seemed  to  take  bodily  shape,  and  I  could 
almost  fancy  that  I  saw  this  most  loathsome  and 
dangerous  of  all  the  fiends  crouching  closely  in  his 
very  shadow,  like  a  half-cowed  beast  which  slinks 
beside  its  keeper,  ready  at  any  unguarded  moment  to 
spring  at  his  throat.  And  the  dead  woman,  the  woman 
who  had  spent  her  life  in  warding  off  this  danger,  took 
shape  also  to  my  imagination,  and  I  saw  her  as  a 
shadowy  but  beautiful  presence  which  intervened  for 
ever  with  arms  uplifted  to  screen  the  man  whom  she 
loved. 

In  some  subtle  way  he  divined  the  sympathy 
which  I  had  for  him,  and  he  showed  in  his  own  silent 
fashion  that  he  appreciated  it.  He  even  invited  me 
once  to  share  his  afternoon  walk,  and  although  no  word 
passed  between  us  on  this  occasion,  it  was  a  mark  of 
confidence  which  he  had  never  shown  to  any  one  before. 
He  asked  me  also  to  index  his  library  (it  was  one  of 
the  best  private  libraries  in  England),  and  I  spent 
many  hours  in  the  evening  in  his  presence,  if  not  in 
his  society,  he  reading  at  his  desk  and  I  sitting  in  a 
recess  by  the  window  reducing  to  order  the  chaos 
which  existed  among  his  books.  In  spite  of  these 
close  relations  I  was  never  again  asked  to  enter  the 
chamber  in  the  turret. 

And  then  came  my  revulsion  of  feeling.  A  single 
incident  changed  all  my  sympathy  to  loathing,  and 
made  me  realize  that  my  employer  still  remained  all 
that  he  had  ever  been,  with  the  additional  vice  of 
hypocrisy.    What  happened  was  as  follows. 


THE  JAPANNED  BOX  93 

One  evening  Miss  Witherton  had  gone  down  to 
Broadway,  the  neighbouring  village,  to  sing  at  a  con- 
cert for  some  charity,  and  I,  according  to  my  promise, 
had  walked  over  to  escort  her  back.  The  drive  sweeps 
round  under  the  eastern  turret,  and  I  observed  as  I 
passed  that  the  light  was  lit  in  the  circular  room.  It 
was  a  summer  evening,  and  the  window,  which  was 
a  little  higher  than  our  heads,  was  open.  We  were, 
as  it  happened,  engrossed  in  our  own  conversation  at 
the  moment,  and  we  had  paused  upon  the  lawn  which 
skirts  the  old  turret,  when  suddenly  something  broke 
in  upon  our  talk  and  turned  our  thoughts  away  from 
our  own  affairs. 

It  was  a  voice — the  voice  undoubtedly  of  a  woman. 
It  was  low — so  low  that  it  was  only  in  that  still  night 
air  that  we  could  have  heard  it,  but,  hushed  as  it  was, 
there  was  no  mistaking  its  feminine  timbre.  It  spoke 
hurriedly,  gaspingly  for  a  few  sentences,  and  then  was 
silent — a  piteous,  breathless,  imploring  sort  of  voice. 
Miss  Witherton  and  I  stood  for  an  instant  staring  at 
each  other.  Then  we  walked  quickly  in  the  direction 
of  the  hall-door. 

"  It  came  through  the  window,"  I  said. 

"We  must  not  play  the  part  of  eavesdroppers," 
she  answered.  "  We  must  forget  that  we  have  ever 
heard  it." 

There  was  an  absence  of  surprise  in  her  manner 
which  suggested  a  new  idea  to  me. 

"  You  have  heard  it  before,"  I  cried. 

"  I  could  not  help  it.  My  own  room  is  higher  up 
on  the  same  turret.     It  has  happened  frequently." 

"  Who  can  the  woman  be  ? " 


94  THE  JAPANNED  BOX 

"  I  have  no  idea.     I  had  rather  not  discuss  it." 

Her  voice  was  enough  to  show  me  what  she  thought. 
But  granting  that  our  employer  led  a  double  and  dubious 
life,  who  could  she  be,  this  mysterious  woman  who  kept 
him  company  in  the  old  tower  ?  I  knew  from  my  own 
inspection  how  bleak  and  bare  a  room  it  was.  She  cer- 
tainly did  not  live  there.  But  in  that  case  where  did 
she  come  from  ?  It  could  not  be  any  one  of  the  house- 
hold. They  were  all  under  the  vigilant  eyes  of  Mrs. 
Stevens.  The  visitor  must  come  from  without.  But 
how? 

And  then  suddenly  I  remembered  how  ancient  this 
building  was,  and  how  probable  that  some  medieval 
passage  existed  in  it.  There  is  hardly  an  old  castle 
without  one.  The  mysterious  room  was  the  basement 
of  the  turret,  so  that  if  there  were  anything  of  the  sort 
it  would  open  through  the  floor.  There  were  numerous 
cottages  in  the  immediate  vicinity.  The  other  end  of 
the  secret  passage  might  lie  among  some  tangle  of 
bramble  in  the  neighbouring  copse.  I  said  nothing  to 
any  one,  but  I  felt  that  the  secret  of  my  employer  lay 
within  my  power. 

And  the  more  convinced  I  was  of  this  the  more  I 
marvelled  at  the  manner  in  which  he  concealed  his  true 
nature.  Often  as  I  watched  his  austere  figure,  I  asked 
myself  if  it  were  indeed  possible  that  such  a  man  should 
be  living  this  double  life,  and  I  tried  to  persuade  myself 
that  my  suspicions  might  after  all  prove  to  be  ill- 
founded.  But  there  was  the  female  voice,  there  was 
the  secret  nightly  rendezvous  in  the  turret  cham- 
ber— how  could  such  facts  admit  of  an  innocent 
interpretation  ?      I  conceived  a  horror  of   the  man. 


THE  JAPANNED  BOX  95 

I  was  filled  with  loathing  at  his  deep,  consistent 
hypocrisy. 

Only  once  during  all  those  months  did  I  ever  see 
him  without  that  sad  but  impassive  mask  which  he 
usually  presented  towards  his  fellow-man.  For  an 
instant  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  those  volcanic  fires  which 
he  had  damped  down  so  long.  The  occasion  was  an 
unworthy  one,  for  the  object  of  his  wrath  was  none 
other  than  the  aged  charwoman  whom  I  have  already 
mentioned  as  being  the  one  person  who  was  allowed 
within  his  mysterious  chamber.  I  was  passing  the 
corridor  which  led  to  the  turret — for  my  own  room  lay 
in  that  direction — when  I  heard  a  sudden,  startled 
scream,  and  merged  in  it  the  husky,  growling  note  of  a 
man  who  is  inarticulate  with  passion.  It  was  the 
snarl  of  a  furious  wild  beast.  Then  I  heard  his  voice 
thrilling  with  anger.  "You  would  dare!"  he  cried. 
"You  would  dare  to  disobey  my  directions!"  An 
instant  later  the  charwoman  passed  me,  flying  down 
the  passage,  white  faced  and  tremulous,  while  the 
terrible  voice  thundered  behind  her.  "Go  to  Mrs. 
Stevens  for  your  money!  Never  set  foot  in  Thorpe 
Place  again ! "  Consumed  with  curiosity,  I  could  not 
help  following  the  woman,  and  found  her  round  the 
corner  leaning  against  the  wall  and  palpitating  like  a 
frightened  rabbit. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Mrs.  Brown  ? "  I  asked. 

"  It's  master ! "  she  gasped.  "  Oh  'ow  'e  frightened 
me!  If  you  had  seen  'is  eyes,  Mr.  Colmore,  sir.  I 
thought  'e  would  'ave  been  the  death  of  me." 

"  But  what  had  you  done  ? " 

"  Done,  sir !     Nothing,     At  least  nothing  to  make 


96  THE  JAPANNED  BOX 

so  much  of.  Just  laid  my  'and  on  that  black  box  of  'is 
— 'adn't  even  opened  it,  when  in  'e  came  and  you  'eard 
the  way  'e  went  on.  I've  lost  my  place,  and  glad  I  am 
of  it,  for  I  would  never  trust  myself  within  reach  of  'im 
again." 

So  it  was  the  japanned  box  which  was  the  cause  of 
this  outburst — the  box  from  which  he  would  never 
permit  himself  to  be  separated.  What  was  the  con- 
nection, or  was  there  any  connection  between  this  and 
the  secret  visits  of  the  lady  whose  voice  I  had  over- 
heard ?  Sir  John  Bollamore's  wrath  was  enduring  as 
well  as  fiery,  for  from  that  day  Mrs.  Brown,  the  char- 
woman, vanished  from  our  ken,  and  Thorpe  Place  knew 
her  no  more. 

And  now  I  wish  to  tell  you  the  singular  chance 
which  solved  all  these  strange  questions  and  put  my 
employer's  secret  in  my  possession.  The  story  may 
leave  you  with  some  lingering  doubt  as  to  whether  my 
curiosity  did  not  get  the  better  of  my  honour,  and 
whether  I  did  not  condescend  to  play  the  spy.  If  you 
choose  to  think  so  I  cannot  help  it,  but  can  only  assure 
you  that,  improbable  as  it  may  appear,  the  matter  came 
about  exactly  as  I  describe  it. 

The  first  stage  in  this  denouement  was  that  the 
small  room  on  the  turret  became  uninhabitabla  This 
occurred  through  the  fall  of  the  worm-eaten  oaken 
beam  which  supported  the  ceiling.  Eotten  with  age, 
it  snapped  in  the  middle  one  morning,  and  brought 
down  a  quantity  of  plaster  with  it.  Fortunately  Sir 
John  was  not  in  the  room  at  the  time.  His  precious 
box  was  rescued  from  amongst  the  debris  and  brought 
into  the  library,  where,  henceforward,  it  was  locked 


THE  JAPANNED  BOX  97 

within  his  bureau.  Sir  John  took  no  steps  to  repair 
the  damage,  and  I  never  had  an  opportunity  of  search- 
ing for  that  secret  passage,  the  existence  of  which  I  had 
surmised.  As  to  the  lady,  I  had  thought  that  this 
would  have  brought  her  visits  to  an  end,  had  I  not  one 
evening  heard  Mr.  Eichards  asking  Mrs.  Stevens  who 
the  woman  was  whom  he  had  overheard  talking  to  Sir 
John  in  the  library.  I  could  not  catch  her  reply,  but 
I  saw  from  her  manner  that  it  was  not  the  first  time 
that  she  had  had  to  answer  or  avoid  the  same  question. 

"  You've  heard  the  voice,  Colmore  ? "  said  the 
agent. 

I  confessed  that  I  had. 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders,  and  remarked  that  it  was 
no  business  of  mine. 

"  Come,  come,  you  are  just  as  curious  as  any  of  us. 
Is  it  a  woman  or  not  ?  " 

"  It  is  certainly  a  woman." 

"  Which  room  did  you  hear  it  from  ? " 

"  From  the  turret-room,  before  the  ceiling  fell." 

"  But  I  heard  it  from  the  library  only  last  night.  I 
passed  the  doors  as  I  was  going  to  bed,  and  I  heard 
something  wailing  and  praying  just  as  plainly  as  I  hear 
you.     It  may  be  a  woman " 

"  Why,  what  else  could  it  be  ? " 

He  looked  at  me  hard. 

"  There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,"  said 
he.     "  If  it  is  a  woman,  how  does  she  get  there  ? " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"No,  nor  I.  But  if  it  is  the  other  thing — but 
there,  for  a  practical  business  man  at  the  end  of  the 

H 


98  THE  JAPANNED  BOX 

nineteenth  century  this  is  rather  a  ridiculous  line  of 
conversation."  He  turned  away,  but  I  saw  that  he 
felt  even  more  than  he  had  said.  To  all  the  old  ghost 
stories  of  Thorpe  Place  a  new  one  was  being  added 
before  our  very  eyes.  It  may  by  this  time  have  taken 
its  permanent  place,  for  though  an  explanation  came  to 
me,  it  never  reached  the  others. 

And  my  explanation  came  in  this  way.  I  had 
suffered  a  sleepless  night  from  neuralgia,  and  about 
mid-day  I  had  taken  a  heavy  dose  of  chlorodyne  to 
alleviate  the  pain.  At  that  time  I  was  finishing  the 
indexing  of  Sir  John  Bollamore's  library,  and  it  was  my 
custom  to  work  there  from  five  till  seven.  On  this 
particular  day  I  struggled  against  the  double  effect 
of  my  bad  night  and  the  narcotic.  I  have  already 
mentioned  that  there  was  a  recess  in  the  library,  and 
in  this  it  was  my  habit  to  work.  I  settled  down 
steadily  to  my  task,  but  my  weariness  overcame  me 
and,  falling  back  upon  the  settee,  I  dropped  into  a 
heavy  sleep. 

How  long  I  slept  I  do  not  know,  but  it  was  quite 
dark  when  I  awoke.  Confused  by  the  chlorodyne 
which  I  had  taken,  I  lay  motionless  in  a  semi-conscious 
state.  The  great  room  with  its  high  walls  covered  with 
books  loomed  darkly  all  round  me.  A  dim  radiance 
from  the  moonlight  came  through  the  farther  window, 
and  against  this  lighter  background  I  saw  that  Sir 
John  Bollamore  was  sitting  at  his  study  table.  His 
well-set  head  and  clearly  cut  profile  were  sharply  out- 
lined against  the  glimmering  square  behind  him.  He 
bent  as  I  watched  him,  and  I  heard  the  sharp  turning 
of  a  key  and  the  rasping  of  metal  upon  metal.    As  if 


THE  JAPANNED  BOX  99 

in  a  dream  I  was  vaguely  conscious  that  this  was  the 
japanned  box  which  stood  in  front  of  him,  and  that  he 
had  drawn  something  out  of  it,  something  squat  and 
uncouth,  which  now  lay  before  him  upon  the  table.  I 
never  realized — it  never  occurred  to  my  bemuddled  and 
torpid  brain  that  I  was  intruding  upon  his  privacy, 
that  he  imagined  himself  to  be  alone  in  the  room. 
And  then,  just  as  it  rushed  upon  my  horrified  percep- 
tions, and  I  had  half  risen  to  announce  my  presence, 
I  heard  a  strange,  crisp,  metallic  clicking,  and  then 
the  voice. 

Yes,  it  was  a  woman's  voice ;  there  could  not  be  a 
doubt  of  it.  But  a  voice  so  charged  with  entreaty 
and  with  yearning  love,  that  it  will  ring  for  ever  in  my 
ears.  It  came  with  a  curious  far-away  tinkle,  but  every 
word  was  clear,  though  faint — very  faint,  for  they  were 
the  last  words  of  a  dying  woman. 

"  I  am  not  really  gone,  John,"  said  the  thin,  gasping 
voice.  "I  am  here  at  your  very  elbow,  and  shall  be 
until  we  meet  once  more.  I  die  happy  to  think  that 
morning  and  night  you  will  hear  my  voice.  Oh,  John, 
be  strong,  be  strong,  until  we  meet  again." 

I  say  that  I  had  risen  in  order  to  announce  my 
presence,  but  I  could  not  do  so  while  the  voice  was 
sounding.  I  could  only  remain  half  lying,  half  sitting, 
paralyzed,  astounded,  listening  to  those  yearning  dis- 
tant musical  words.  And  he — he  was  so  absorbed  that 
even  if  I  had  spoken  he  might  not  have  heard  me.  But 
with  the  silence  of  the  voice  came  my  half  articulated 
apologies  and  explanations.  He  sprang  across  the  room, 
switched  on  the  electric  light,  and  in  its  white  glare  I 
saw  him,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  anger,  his  face  twisted 


100  THE  JAPANNED  BOX 

with  passion,  as  the  hapless  charwoman  may  have  seen 
him  weeks  before. 

"  Mr.  Colmore !  "  he  cried.  "  You  here !  What  is 
the  meaning  of  this,  sir  ? " 

With  halting  words  I  explained  it  all,  my  neuralgia, 
the  narcotic,  my  luckless  sleep  and  singular  awakening. 
As  he  listened  the  glow  of  anger  faded  from  his  face,  and 
the  sad,  impassive  mask  closed  once  more  over  his 
features. 

"My  secret  is  yours,  Mr.  Colmore,"  said  he.  "I 
have  only  myself  to  blame  for  relaxing  my  precautions. 
Half  confidences  are  worse  than  no  confidences,  and  so 
you  may  know  all  since  you  know  so  much.  The  story 
may  go  where  you  will  when  I  have  passed  away,  but 
until  then  I  rely  upon  your  sense  of  honour  that  no 
human  soul  shall  hear  it  from  your  lips.  I  am  proud 
still — God  help  me ! — or,  at  least,  I  am  proud  enough 
to  resent  that  pity  which  this  story  would  draw  upon 
me.  I  have  smiled  at  envy,  and  disregarded  hatred, 
but  pity  is  more  than  I  can  tolerate. 

"  You  have  heard  the  source  from  which  the  voice 
comes — that  voice  which  has,  as  I  understand,  excited 
so  much  curiosity  in  my  household.  I  am  aware  of  the 
rumours  to  which  it  has  given  rise.  These  speculations, 
whether  scandalous  or  superstitious,  are  such  as  I  can 
disregard  and  forgive.  What  I  should  never  forgive 
would  be  a  disloyal  spying  and  eavesdropping  in  order 
to  satisfy  an  illicit  curiosity.  But  of  that,  Mr.  Colmore, 
I  acquit  you. 

"When  I  was  a  young  man,  sir,  many  years 
younger  than  you  are  now,  I  was  launched  upon  town 
without  a  friend  or  adviser,  and  with  a  purse  which 


THE  JAPANNED  BOX  101 

brought  only  too  many  false  friends  and  false  advisers 
to  my  side.  I  drank  deeply  of  the  wine  of  life — if  there 
is  a  man  living  who  has  drank  more  deeply  he  is  not  a 
man  whom  I  envy.  My  purse  suffered,  my  character 
suffered,  my  constitution  suffered,  stimulants  became 
a  necessity  to  me,  I  was  a  creature  from  whom  my 
memory  recoils.  And  it  was  at  that  time,  the  time 
of  my  blackest  degradation,  that  God  sent  into  my  life 
the  gentlest,  sweetest  spirit  that  ever  descended  as  a 
ministering  angel  from  above.  She  loved  me,  broken 
as  I  was,  loved  me,  and  spent  her  life  in  making  a  man 
once  more  of  that  which  had  degraded  itself  to  the  level 
of  the  beasts. 

"  But  a  fell  disease  struck  her,  and  she  withered 
away  before  my  eyes.  In  the  hour  of  her  agony  it  was 
never  of  herself,  of  her  own  sufferings  and  her  own 
death  that  she  thought.  It  was  all  of  me.  The  one 
pang  which  her  fate  brought  to  her  was  the  fear  that 
when  her  influence  was  removed  I  should  revert  to 
that  which  I  had  been.  It  was  in  vain  that  I  made 
oath  to  her  that  no  drop  of  wine  would  ever  cross  my 
lips.  She  knew  only  too  well  the  hold  that  the  devil 
had  upon  me — she  who  had  striven  so  to  loosen  it — and 
it  haunted  her  night  and  day  the  thought  that  my  soul 
might  again  be  within  his  grip. 

"  It  was  from  some  friend's  gossip  of  the  sick  room 
that  she  heard  of  this  invention — this  phonograph — 
and  with  the  quick  insight  of  a  loving  woman  she  saw 
how  she  might  use  it  for  her  ends.  She  sent  me  to 
London  to  procure  the  best  which  money  could  buy. 
With  her  dying  breath  she  gasped  into  it  the  words 
which  have  held  me  straight  ever  since.    Lonely  and 


102  THE  JAPANNED  BOX 

broken,  what  else  have  I  in  all  the  world  to  uphold 
me  ?  But  it  is  enough.  Please  God,  I  shall  face  her 
without  shame  when  He  is  pleased  to  reunite  us  !  That 
is  my  secret,  Mr.  Colmore,  and  whilst  I  live  I  leave  it 
in  your  keeping." 


THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

Bishop's  Crossing  is  a  small  village  lying  ten  miles 
in  a  south-westerly  direction  from  Liverpool.  Here 
in  the  early  seventies  there  settled  a  doctor  named 
Aloysius  Lana.  Nothing  was  known  locally  either  of 
his  antecedents  or  of  the  reasons  which  had  prompted 
him  to  come  to  this  Lancashire  hamlet.  Two  facts 
only  were  certain  about  him:  the  one  that  he  had 
gained  his  medical  qualification  with  some  distinction 
at  Glasgow ;  the  other  that  he  came  undoubtedly  of  a 
tropical  race,  and  was  so  dark  that  he  might  almost 
have  had  a  strain  of  the  Indian  in  his  composition. 
His  predominant  features  were,  however,  European, 
and  he  possessed  a  stately  courtesy  and  carriage  which 
suggested  a  Spanish  extraction.  A  swarthy  skin, 
raven-black  hair,  and  dark,  sparkling  eyes  under  a 
pair  of  heavily-tufted  brows  made  a  strange  contrast 
to  the  flaxen  or  chestnut  rustics  of  England,  and  the 
new-comer  was  soon  known  as  "  The  Black  Doctor  of 
Bishop's  Crossing."  At  first  it  was  a  term  of  ridicule 
and  reproach ;  as  the  years  went  on  it  became  a  title  of 
honour  which  was  familiar  to  the  whole  country-side,  and 
extended  far  beyond  the  narrow  confines  of  the  village. 
For  the  new-comer  proved  himself  to  be  a  capable 
surgeon  and  an  accomplished  physician.    The  practice 

103 


104  THE   BLACK   DOCTOR 

of  that  district  had  been  in  the  hands  of  Edward  Kowe, 
the  son  of  Sir  William  Kowe,  the  Liverpool  consultant, 
but  he  had  not  inherited  the  talents  of  his  father,  and 
Dr.  Lana,  with  his  advantages  of  presence  and  of 
manner,  soon  beat  him  out  of  the  field.  Dr.  Lana's 
social  success  was  as  rapid  as  his  professional.  A 
remarkable  surgical  cure  in  the  case  of  the  Hon.  James 
Lowry,  the  second  son  of  Lord  Belton,  was  the  means 
of  introducing  him  to  county  society,  where  he  became 
a  favourite  through  the  charm  of  his  conversation  and 
the  elegance  of  his  manners.  An  absence  of  ante- 
cedents and  of  relatives  is  sometimes  an  aid  rather 
than  an  impediment  to  social  advancement,  and  the 
distinguished  individuality  of  the  handsome  doctor  was 
its  own  recommendation. 

His  patients  had  one  fault — and  one  fault  only — 
to  find  with  him.  He  appeared  to  be  a  confirmed 
bachelor.  This  was  the  more  remarkable  since  the 
house  which  he  occupied  was  a  large  one,  and  it  was 
known  that  his  success  in  practice  had  enabled  him 
to  save  considerable  sums.  At  first  the  local  match- 
makers were  continually  coupling  his  name  with  one 
or  other  of  the  eligible  ladies,  but  as  years  passed  and 
Dr.  Lana  remained  unmarried,  it  came  to  be  generally 
understood  that  for  some  reason  he  must  remain  a 
bachelor.  Some  even  went  so  far  as  to  assert  that  he 
was  already  married,  and  that  it  was  in  order  to  escape 
the  consequence  of  an  early  misalliance  that  he  had 
buried  himself  at  Bishop's  Crossing.  And  then,  just 
as  the  match-makers  had  finally  given  him  up  in 
despair,  his  engagement  was  suddenly  announced  to 
Miss  Frances  Morton,  of  Leigh  Hall. 


THE  BLACK  DOCTOR  105 

Miss  Morton  was  a  young  lady  who  was  well 
known  upon  the  country-side,  her  father,  James 
Haldane  Morton,  having  been  the  Squire  of  Bishop's 
Crossing.  Both  her  parents  were,  however,  dead,  and 
she  lived  with  her  only  brother,  Arthur  Morton,  who 
had  inherited  the  family  estate.  In  person  Miss 
Morton  was  tall  and  stately,  and  she  was  famous  for 
her  quick,  impetuous  nature  and  for  her  strength  of 
character.  She  met  Dr.  Lana  at  a  garden-party,  and 
a  friendship,  which  quickly  ripened  into  love,  sprang 
up  between  them.  Nothing  could  exceed  their  devo- 
tion to  each  other.  There  was  some  discrepancy  in 
age,  he  being  thirty-seven,  and  she  twenty-four;  but, 
save  in  that  one  respect,  there  was  no  possible  objec- 
tion to  be  found  with  the  match.  The  engagement 
was  in  February,  and  it  was  arranged  that  the  marriage 
should  take  place  in  August. 

Upon  the  3rd  of  June  Dr.  Lana  received  a  letter 
from  abroad.  In  a  small  village  the  postmaster  is  also 
in  a  position  to  be  the  gossip-master,  and  Mr.  Bankley, 
of  Bishop's  Crossing,  had  many  of  the  secrets  of  his 
neighbours  in  his  possession.  Of  this  particular  letter 
he  remarked  only  that  it  was  in  a  curious  envelope, 
that  it  was  in  a  man's  handwriting,  that  the  postscript 
was  Buenos  Ayres,  and  the  stamp  of  the  Argentine 
Bepublic.  It  was  the  first  letter  which  he  had  ever 
known  Dr.  Lana  to  have  from  abroad,  and  this  was  the 
reason  why  his  attention  was  particularly  called  to  it 
before  he  handed  it  to  the  local  postman.  It  was 
delivered  by  the  evening  delivery  of  that  date. 

Next  morning — that  is,  upon  the  4th  of  June — Dr. 
Lana  called  upon  Miss  Morton,  and  a  long  interview 


106  THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

followed,  from  which  he  was  observed  to  return  in  a 
state  of  great  agitation.  Miss  Morton  remained  in  her 
room  all  that  day,  and  her  maid  found  her  several 
times  in  tears.  In  the  course  of  a  week  it  was  an  open 
secret  to  the  whole  village  that  the  engagement  was  at 
an  end,  that  Dr.  Lana  had  behaved  shamefully  to  the 
young  lady,  and  that  Arthur  Morton,  her  brother,  was 
talking  of  horse-whipping  him.  In  what  particular 
respect  the  doctor  had  behaved  badly  was  unknown — 
some  surmised  one  thing  and  some  another ;  but  it  was 
observed,  and  taken  as  the  obvious  sign  of  a  guilty 
conscience,  that  he  would  go  for  miles  round  rather 
than  pass  the  windows  of  Leigh  Hall,  and  that  he  gave 
up  attending  morning  service  upon  Sundays  where  he 
might  have  met  the  young  lady.  There  was  an  adver- 
tisement also  in  the  Lancet  as  to  the  sale  of  a  practice 
which  mentioned  no  names,  but  which  was  thought  by 
some  to  refer  to  Bishop's  Crossing,  and  to  mean  that 
Dr.  Lana  was  thinking  of  abandoning  the  scene  of  his 
success.  Such  was  the  position  of  affairs  when,  upon 
the  evening  of  Monday,  June  21st,  there  came  a  fresh 
development  which  changed  what  had  been  a  mere 
village  scandal  into  a  tragedy  which  arrested  the  atten- 
tion of  the  whole  nation.  Some  detail  is  necessary  to 
cause  the  facts  of  that  evening  to  present  their  full 
significance. 

The  sole  occupants  of  the  doctor's  house  were  his 
housekeeper,  an  elderly  and  most  respectable  woman, 
named  Martha  Woods,  and  a  young  servant — Mary 
Pilling.  The  coachman  and  the  surgery-boy  slept  out. 
It  was  the  custom  of  the  doctor  to  sit  at  night  in  his 
study,  which  was  next  the  surgery  in  the  wing  of  the 


THE  BLACK  DOCTOR  107 

house  which  was  farthest  from  the  servants'  quarters. 
This  side  of  the  house  had  a  door  of  its  own  for  the 
convenience  of  patients,  so  that  it  was  possible  for  the 
doctor  to  admit  and  receive  a  visitor  there  without 
the  knowledge  of  any  one.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  when 
patients  came  late  it  was  quite  usual  for  him  to  let 
them  in  and  out  by  the  surgery  entrance,  for  the  maid 
and  the  housekeeper  were  in  the  habit  of  retiring 
early. 

On  this  particular  night  Martha  Woods  went  into 
the  doctor's  study  at  half-past  nine,  and  found  him 
writing  at  his  desk.  She  bade  him  good-night,  sent 
the  maid  to  bed,  and  then  occupied  herself  until  a 
quarter  to  eleven  in  household  matters.  It  was  strik- 
ing eleven  upon  the  hall  clock  when  she  went  to  her 
own  room.  She  had  been  there  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  or  twenty  minutes  when  she  heard  a  cry  or  call, 
which  appeared  to  come  from  within  the  house.  She 
waited  some  time,  but  it  was  not  repeated.  Much 
alarmed,  for  the  sound  was  loud  and  urgent,  she  put 
on  a  dressing-gown,  and  ran  at  the  top  of  her  speed  to 
the  doctor's  study. 

"  Who's  there  ? "  cried  a  voice,  as  she  tapped  at  the 
door. 

"  I  am  here,  sir — Mrs.  Woods." 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  leave  me  in  peace.  Go  back 
to  your  room  this  instant ! "  cried  the  voice,  which 
was,  to  the  best  of  her  belief,  that  of  her  master.  The 
tone  was  so  harsh  and  so  unlike  her  master's  usual 
manner,  that  she  was  surprised  and  hurt. 

"  I  thought  I  heard  you  calling,  sir,"  she  explained, 
but  no  answer  was  given  to  her.    Mrs.  Woods  looked 


108  THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

at  the  clock  as  she  returned  to  her  room,  and  it  was 
then  half-past  eleven. 

At  some  period  between  eleven  and  twelve  (she 
could  not  be  positive  as  to  the  exact  hour)  a  patient 
called  upon  the  doctor  and  was  unable  to  get  any  reply 
from  him.  This  late  visitor  was  Mrs.  Madding,  the 
wife  of  the  village  grocer  who  was  dangerously  ill  of 
typhoid  fever.  Dr.  Lana  had  asked  her  to  look  in  the 
last  thing  and  let  him  know  how  her  husband  was 
progressing.  She  observed  that  the  light  was  burn- 
ing in  the  study,  but  having  knocked  several  times 
at  the  surgery  door  without  response,  she  concluded 
that  the  doctor  had  been  called  out,  and  so  returned 
home. 

There  is  a  short,  winding  drive  with  a  lamp  at  the 
end  of  it  leading  down  from  the  house  to  the  road.  As 
Mrs.  Madding  emerged  from  the  gate  a  man  was 
coming  along  the  footpath.  Thinking  that  it  might  be 
Dr.  Lana  returning  from  some  professional  visit,  she 
waited  for  him,  and  was  surprised  to  see  that  it  was 
Mr.  Arthur  Morton,  the  young  squire.  In  the  light  of 
the  lamp  she  observed  that  his  manner  was  excited, 
and  that  he  carried  in  his  hand  a  heavy  hunting-crop. 
He  was  turning  in  at  the  gate  when  she  addressed 
him. 

"  The  doctor  is  not  in,  sir,"  said  she. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ? "  he  asked,  harshly. 

"  I  have  been  to  the  surgery  door,  sir." 

"  I  see  a  light,"  said  the  young  squire,  looking  up 
the  drive.     "  That  is  in  his  study,  is  it  not  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  I  am  sure  that  he  is  out." 

"  Well,  he  must  come  in  again,"  said  young  Morton, 


THE  BLACK  DOCTOR  109 

and  passed  through  the  gate  while  Mrs.  Madding  went 
upon  her  homeward  way. 

At  three  o'clock  that  morning  her  husband  suffered 
a  sharp  relapse,  and  she  was  so  alarmed  by  his  symp- 
toms that  she  determined  to  call  the  doctor  without 
delay.  As  she  passed  through  the  gate  she  was  sur- 
prised to  see  some  one  lurking  among  the  laurel  bushes. 
It  was  certainly  a  man,  and  to  the  best  of  her  belief 
Mr.  Arthur  Morton.  Preoccupied  with  her  own 
troubles,  she  gave  no  particular  attention  to  the 
incident,  but  hurried  on  upon  her  errand. 

When  she  reached  the  house  she  perceived  to  her 
surprise  that  the  light  was  still  burning  in  the  study. 
She  therefore  tapped  at  the  surgery  door.  There  was 
no  answer.  She  repeated  the  knocking  several  times 
without  effect.  It  appeared  to  her  to  be  unlikely  that 
the  doctor  would  either  go  to  bed  or  go  out  leaving  so 
brilliant  a  light  behind  him,  and  it  struck  Mrs.  Mad- 
ding that  it  was  possible  that  he  might  have  dropped 
asleep  in  his  chair.  She  tapped  at  the  study  window, 
therefore,  but  without  result.  Then,  finding  that  there 
was  an  opening  between  the  curtain  and  the  woodwork, 
she  looked  through. 

The  small  room  was  brilliantly  lighted  from  a  large 
lamp  on  the  central  table,  which  was  littered  with  the 
doctor's  books  and  instruments.  No  one  was  visible, 
nor  did  she  see  anything  unusual,  except  that  in  the 
further  shadow  thrown  by  the  table  a  dingy  white 
glove  was  lying  upon  the  carpet.  And  then  suddenly, 
as  her  eyes  became  more  accustomed  to  the  light,  a 
boot  emerged  from  the  other  end  of  the  shadow,  and 
she  realized,  with  a  thrill  of  horror,  that  what  she  had 


110  THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

taken  to  be  a  glove  was  the  hand  of  a  man,  who  was 
prostrate  upon  the  floor.  Understanding  that  some- 
thing terrible  had  occurred,  she  rang  at  the  front  door, 
roused  Mrs.  Woods,  the  housekeeper,  and  the  two 
women  made  their  way  into  the  study,  having  first 
dispatched  the  maidservant  to  the  police-station. 

At  the  side  of  the  table,  away  from  the  window, 
Dr.  Lana  was  discovered  stretched  upon  his  back  and 
quite  dead.  It  was  evident  that  he  had  been  sub- 
jected to  violence,  for  one  of  his  eyes  was  blackened, 
and  there  were  marks  of  bruises  about  his  face  and 
neck.  A  slight  thickening  and  swelling  of  his  features 
appeared  to  suggest  that  the  cause  of  his  death  had 
been  strangulation.  He  was  dressed  in  his  usual  pro- 
fessional clothes,  but  wore  cloth  slippers,  the  soles  of 
which  were  perfectly  clean.  The  carpet  was  marked 
all  over,  especially  on  the  side  of  the  door,  with  traces 
of  dirty  boots,  which  were  presumably  left  by  the 
murderer.  It  was  evident  that  some  one  had  entered 
by  the  surgery  door,  had  killed  the  doctor,  and  had 
then  made  his  escape  unseen.  That  the  assailant  was 
a  man  was  certain,  from  the  size  of  the  footprints  and 
from  the  nature  of  the  injuries.  But  beyond  that 
point  the  police  found  it  very  difficult  to  go. 

There  were  no  signs  of  robbery,  and  the  doctor's 
gold  watch  was  safe  in  his  pocket.  He  kept  a  heavy 
cash-box  in  the  room,  and  this  was  discovered  to  be 
locked  but  empty.  Mrs.  Woods  had  an  impression 
that  a  large  sum  was  usually  kept  there,  but  the 
doctor  had  paid  a  heavy  corn  bill  in  cash  only  that 
very  day,  and  it  was  conjectured  that  it  was  to  this 
and  not  to  a  robber  that  the  emptiness  of  the  box 


THE  BLACK  DOCTOR  111 

was  due.  One  thing  in  the  room  was  missing — but 
that  one  thing  was  suggestive.  The  portrait  of  Miss 
Morton,  which  had  always  stood  upon  the  side-table, 
had  been  taken  from  its  frame,  and  carried  off.  Mrs. 
Woods  had  observed  it  there  when  she  waited  upon 
her  employer  that  evening,  and  now  it  was  gone.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  was  picked  up  from  the  floor 
a  green  eye-patch,  which  the  housekeeper  could  not 
remember  to  have  seen  before.  Such  a  patch  might, 
however,  be  in  the  possession  of  a  doctor,  and  there 
was  nothing  to  indicate  that  it  was  in  any  way 
connected  with  the  crime. 

Suspicion  could  only  turn  in  one  direction,  and 
Arthur  Morton,  the  young  squire,  was  immediately 
arrested.  The  evidence  against  him  was  circum- 
stantial, but  damning.  He  was  devoted  to  his  sister, 
and  it  was  shown  that  since  the  rupture  between  her 
and  Dr.  Lana  he  had  been  heard  again  and  again  to 
express  himself  in  the  most  vindictive  terms  towards 
her  former  lover.  He  had,  as  stated,  been  seen  some- 
where about  eleven  o'clock  entering  the  doctor's  drive 
with  a  hunting-crop  in  his  hand.  He  had  then,  accord- 
ing to  the  theory  of  the  police,  broken  in  upon  the 
doctor,  whose  exclamation  of  fear  or  of  anger  had  been 
loud  enough  to  attract  the  attention  of  Mrs.  Woods. 
When  Mrs.  Woods  .^descended,  Dr.  Lana  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  talk  it  over  with  his  visitor,  and  had, 
therefore,  sent  his  housekeeper  back  to  her  room. 
This  conversation  had  lasted  a  long  time,  had  become 
more  and  more  fiery,  and  had  ended  by  a  personal 
struggle,  in  which  the  doctor  lost  his  life.  The  fact, 
revealed  by  a  post-mortem,  that  his  heart  was  much 


112  THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

diseased — an  ailment  quite  unsuspected  during  his  life 
— would  make  it  possible  that  death  might  in  his  case 
ensue  from  injuries  which  would  not  be  fatal  to  a 
healthy  man.  Arthur  Morton  had  then  removed  his 
sister's  photograph,  and  had  made  his  way  homeward, 
stepping  aside  into  the  laurel  bushes  to  avoid  Mrs. 
Madding  at  the  gate.  This  was  the  theory  of  the  pro- 
secution, and  the  case  which  they  presented  was  a 
formidable  one. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  were  some  strong  points 
for  the  defence.  Morton  was  high-spirited  and  im- 
petuous, like  his  sister,  but  he  was  respected  and  liked 
by  everyone,  and  his  frank  and  honest  nature  seemed 
to  be  incapable  of  such  a  crime.  His  own  explanation 
was  that  he  was  anxious  to  have  a  conversation  with 
Dr.  Lana  about  some  urgent  family  matters  (from  first 
to  last  he  refused  even  to  mention  the  name  of  his 
sister).  He  did  not  attempt  to  deny  that  this  con- 
versation would  probably  have  been  of  an  unpleasant 
nature.  He  had  heard  from  a  patient  that  the  doctor 
was  out,  and  he  therefore  waited  until  about  three  in 
the  morning  for  his  return,  but  as  he  had  seen  nothing 
of  him  up  to  that  hour,  he  had  given  it  up  and  had 
returned  home.  As  to  his  death,  he  knew  no  more 
about  it  than  the  constable  who  arrested  him.  He 
had  formerly  been  an  intimate  friend  of  the  deceased 
man;  but  circumstances,  which  he  would  prefer 
not  to  mention,  had  brought  about  a  change  in  his 
sentiments. 

There  were  several  facts  which  supported  his 
innocence.  It  was  certain  that  Dr.  Lana  was  alive 
and  in  his  study  at  half-past  eleven  o'clock.     Mrs. 


THE   BLACK  DOCTOR  113 

Woods  was  prepared  to  swear  that  it  was  at  that  hour 
that  she  had  heard  his  voice.  The  friends  of  the 
prisoner  contended  that  it  was  probable  that  at  that 
time  Dr.  Lana  was  not  alone.  The  sound  which  had 
originally  attracted  the  attention  of  the  housekeeper, 
and  her  master's  unusual  impatience  that  she  should 
leave  him  in  peace,  seemed  to  point  to  that.  If  this 
were  so,  then  it  appeared  to  be  probable  that  he  had 
met  his  end  between  the  moment  when  the  house- 
keeper heard  his  voice  and  the  time  when  Mrs. 
Madding  made  her  first  call  and  found  it  impossible 
to  attract  hi3  attention.  But  if  this  were  the  time  of 
his  death,  then  it  was  certain  that  Mr.  Arthur  Morton 
could  not  be  guilty,  as  it  was  after  this  that  she  had 
met  the  young  squire  at  the  gate. 

If  this  hypothesis  were  correct,  and  someone  was 
with  Dr.  Lana  before  Mrs.  Madding  met  Mr.  Arthur 
Morton,  then  who  was  this  someone,  and  what 
motives  had  he  for  wishing  evil  to  the  doctor  ?  It 
was  universally  admitted  that  if  the  friends  of  the 
accused  could  throw  light  upon  this,  they  would  have 
gone  a  long  way  towards  establishing  his  innocence. 
But  in  the  meanwhile  it  was  open  to  the  public  to 
say — as  they  did  say — that  there  was  no  proof  that 
any  one  had  been  there  at  all  except  the  young  squire ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  there  was  ample  proof  that 
his  motives  in  going  were  of  a  sinister  kind.  When 
Mrs.  Madding  called,  the  doctor  might  have  retired 
to  his  room,  or  he  might,  as  she  thought  at  the  time, 
have  gone  out  and  returned  afterwards  to  find  Mr. 
Arthur  Morton  waiting  for  him.  Some  of  the  supporters 
of  the  accused   laid   stress   upon   the  fact   that  the 

I 


114  THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

photograph  of  his  sister  Frances,  which  had  been  re- 
moved from  the  doctor's  room,  had  not  been  found  in  her 
brother's  possession.  This  argument,  however,  did  not 
count  for  much,  as  he  had  ample  time  before  his  arrest 
to  burn  it  or  to  destroy  it.  As  to  the  only  positive 
evidence  in  the  case — the  muddy  footmarks  upon  the 
floor — they  were  so  blurred  by  the  softness  of  the 
carpet  that  it  was  impossible  to  make  any  trustworthy 
deduction  from  them.  The  most  that  could  be  said 
was  that  their  appearance  was  not  inconsistent  with 
the  theory  that  they  were  made  by  the  accused,  and 
it  was  further  shown  that  his  boots  were  very  muddy 
upon  that  night.  There  had  been  a  heavy  shower  in 
the  afternoon,  and  all  boots  were  probably  in  the  same 
condition. 

Such  is  a  bald  statement  of  the  singular  and 
romantic  series  of  events  which  centred  public  atten- 
tion upon  this  Lancashire  tragedy.  The  unknown 
origin  of  the  doctor,  his  curious  and  distinguished 
personality,  the  position  of  the  man  who  was  accused 
of  the  murder,  and  the  love  affair  which  had  preceded 
the  crime,  all  combined  to  make  the  affair  one  of  those 
dramas  which  absorb  the  whole  interest  of  a  nation. 
Throughout  the  three  kingdoms  men  discussed  the  case 
of  the  Black  Doctor  of  Bishop's  Crossing,  and  many 
were  the  theories  put  forward  to  explain  the  facts ;  but 
it  may  safely  be  said  that  among  them  all  there  was 
not  one  which  prepared  the  minds  of  the  public  for  the 
extraordinary  sequel,  which  caused  so  much  excite- 
ment upon  the  first  day  of  the  trial,  and  came  to  a 
climax  upon  the  second.  The  long  files  of  the  Lan- 
caster Weekly  with  their  report  of  the  case  lie  before 


THE  BLACK  DOCTOR  115 

me  as  I  write,  but  I  must  content  myself  with  a 
synopsis  of  the  case  up  to  the  point  when,  upon 
the  evening  of  the  first  day,  the  evidence  of  Miss 
Frances  Morton  threw  a  singular  light  upon  the 
case. 

Mr.  Porlock  Carr,  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution, 
had  marshalled  his  facts  with  his  usual  skill,  and  as 
the  day  wore  on,  it  became  more  and  more  evident  how 
difficult  was  the  task  which  Mr.  Humphrey,  who  had 
been  retained  for  the  defence,  had  before  him.  Several 
witnesses  were  put  up  to  swear  to  the  intemperate 
expressions  which  the  young  squire  had  been  heard  to 
utter  about  the  doctor,  and  the  fiery  manner  in  which 
he  resented  the  alleged  ill-treatment  of  his  sister. 
Mrs.  Madding  repeated  her  evidence  as  to  the  visit 
which  had  been  paid  late  at  night  by  the  prisoner  to 
the  deceased,  and  it  was  shown  by  another  witness 
that  the  prisoner  was  aware  that  the  doctor  was  in  the 
habit  of  sitting  up  alone  in  this  isolated  wing  of  the 
house,  and  that  he  had  chosen  this  very  late  hour  to 
call  because  he  knew  that  his  victim  would  then  be  at 
his  mercy.  A  servant  at  the  squire's  house  was  com- 
pelled to  admit  that  he  had  heard  his  master  return 
about  three  that  morning,  which  corroborated  Mrs. 
Madding's  statement  that  she  had  seen  him  among  the 
laurel  bushes  near  the  gate  upon  the  occasion  of  her 
second  visit.  The  muddy  boots  and  an  alleged  simi- 
larity in  the  footprints  were  duly  dwelt  upon,  and  it 
was  felt  when  the  case  for  the  prosecution  had  been 
presented  that,  however  circumstantial  it  might  be,  it 
was  none  the  less  so  complete  and  so  convincing,  that 
the  fate  of  the  prisoner  was  sealed,  unless  something 


116  THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

quite  unexpected  should  be  disclosed  by  the  defence. 
It  was  three  o'clock  when  the  prosecution  closed.  At 
half-past  four,  when  the  Court  rose,  a  new  and  un- 
looked  for  development  had  occurred.  I  extract  the 
incident,  or  part  of  it,  from  the  journal  which  I  have 
already  mentioned,  omitting  the  preliminary  obser- 
vations of  the  counsel. 

"  Considerable  sensation  was  caused  in  the  crowded 
court  when  the  first  witness  called  for  the  defence 
proved  to  be  Miss  Frances  Morton,  the  sister  of  the 
prisoner.  Our  readers  will  remember  that  the  young 
lady  had  been  engaged  to  Dr.  Lana,  and  that  it  was 
his  anger  over  the  sudden  termination  of  this  engage- 
ment which  was  thought  to  have  driven  her  brother 
to  the  perpetration  of  this  crime.  Miss  Morton  had 
not,  however,  been  directly  implicated  in  the  case  in 
any  way,  either  at  the  inquest  or  at  the  police-court 
proceedings,  and  her  appearance  as  the  leading 
witness  for  the  defence  came  as  a  surprise  upon  the 
public. 

Miss  Frances  Morton,  who  was  a  tall  and  hand- 
some brunette,  gave  her  evidence  in  a  low  but  clear 
voice,  though  it  was  evident  throughout  that  she  was 
suffering  from  extreme  emotion.  She  alluded  to  her 
engagement  to  the  doctor,  touched  briefly  upon  its 
termination,  which  was  due,  she  said,  to  personal 
matters  connected  with  his  family,  and  surprised  the 
Court  by  asserting  that  she  had  always  considered  her 
brother's  resentment  to  be  unreasonable  and  intem- 
perate. In  answer  to  a  direct  question  from  her 
counsel,  she  replied  that  she  did  not  feel  that  she  had 
any  grievance  whatever  against  Dr.  Lana,  and  that  in 


THE  BLACK  DOCTOR  117 

her  opinion  he  had  acted  in  a  perfectly  honourable 
manner.  Her  brother,  on  an  insufficient  knowledge 
of  the  facts,  had  taken  another  view,  and  she  was 
compelled  to  acknowledge  that,  in  spite  of  her 
entreaties,  he  had  uttered  threats  of  personal  violence 
against  the  doctor,  and  had,  upon  the  evening  of  the 
tragedy,  announced  his  intention  of  "  having  it  out 
with  him."  She  had  done  her  best  to  bring  him  to 
a  more  reasonable  frame  of  mind,  but  he  was  very 
headstrong  where  his  emotions  or  prejudices  were 
concerned. 

Up  to  this  point  the  young  lady's  evidence  had 
appeared  to  make  against  the  prisoner  rather  than  in 
his  favour.  The  questions  of  her  counsel,  however, 
soon  put  a  very  different  light  upon  the  matter,  and 
disclosed  an  unexpected  line  of  defence. 

Mr.  Humphrey :  Do  you  believe  your  brother  to  be 
guilty  of  this  crime  ? 

The  Judge:  I  cannot  permit  that  question,  Mr. 
Humphrey.  We  are  here  to  decide  upon  questions  of 
fact — not  of  belief. 

Mr.  Humphrey:  Do  you  know  that  your  brother 
is  not  guilty  of  the  death  of  Doctor  Lana  ? 

Miss  Morton :  Yes. 

Mr.  Humphrey :  How  do  you  know  it  ? 

Miss  Morton :  Because  Dr.  Lana  is  not  dead. 

There  followed  a  prolonged  sensation  in  court,  which 
interrupted  the  cross-examination  of  the  witness. 

Mr.  Humphrey :  And  how  do  you  know,  Miss 
Morton,  that  Dr.  Lana  is  not  dead  ? 

Miss  Morton:  Because  I  have  received  a  letter 
from  him  since  the  date  of  his  supposed  death. 


118  THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

Mr.  Humphrey :  Have  you  this  letter  ? 

Miss  Morton:  Yes,  but  I  should  prefer  not  to 
show  it. 

Mr.  Humphrey  :  Have  you  the  envelope  ? 

Miss  Morton  :  Yes,  it  is  here. 

Mr.  Humphrey :  What  is  the  post-mark  ? 

Miss  Morton :  Liverpool. 

Mr.  Humphrey  :  And  the  date  ? 

Miss  Morton  :  June  the  22nd. 

Mr.  Humphrey:  That  being  the  day  after  his 
alleged  death.  Are  you  prepared  to  swear  to  this 
handwriting,  Miss  Morton  ? 

Miss  Morton :  Certainly. 

Mr.  Humphrey :  I  am  prepared  to  call  six  other 
witnesses,  my  lord,  to  testify  that  this  letter  is  in  the 
writing  of  Doctor  Lana. 

The  Judge :  Then  you  must  call  them  to-morrow. 

Mr.  Porlock  Carr  (counsel  for  the  prosecution) :  In 
the  meantime,  my  lord,  we  claim  possession  of  this 
document,  so  that  we  may  obtain  expert  evidence  as 
to  how  far  it  is  an  imitation  of  the  handwriting  of  the 
gentleman  whom  we  still  confidently  assert  to  be 
deceased.  I  need  not  point  out  that  the  theory  so 
unexpectedly  sprung  upon  us  may  prove  to  be  a  very 
obvious  device  adopted  by  the  friends  of  the  prisoner 
in  order  to  divert  this  inquiry.  I  would  draw  attention 
to  the  fact  that  the  young  lady  must,  according  to  her 
own  account,  have  possessed  this  letter  during  the 
proceedings  at  the  inquest  and  at  the  police-court. 
She  desires  us  to  believe  that  she  permitted  these  to 
proceed,  although  she  held  in  her  pocket  evidence  which 
would  at  any  moment  have  brought  them  to  an  end. 


THE  BLACK  DOCTOR  119 

Mr.  Humphrey:  Can  you  explain  this,  Miss 
Morton  ? 

Miss  Morton:  Dr.  Lana  desired  his  secret  to  be 
preserved. 

Mr.  Porlock  Carr :  Then  why  have  you  made  this 
public  ? 

Miss  Morton :  To  save  my  brother. 

A  murmur  of  sympathy  broke  out  in  court,  which 
was  instantly  suppressed  by  the  Judge. 

The  Judge :  Admitting  this  line  of  defence,  it  lies 
with  you,  Mr.  Humphrey,  to  throw  a  light  upon  who 
this  man  is  whose  body  has  been  recognised  by  so 
many  friends  and  patients  of  Dr.  Lana  as  being  that 
of  the  doctor  himself. 

A  Juryman :  Has  any  one  up  to  now  expressed  any 
doubt  about  the  matter  ? 

Mr.  Porlock  Carr :  Not  to  my  knowledge. 

Mr.  Humphrey:  We  hope  to  make  the  matter 
clear. 

The  Judge:  Then  the  Court  adjourns  until  to- 
morrow." 

This  new  development  of  the  case  excited  the 
utmost  interest  among  the  general  public.  Press 
comment  was  prevented  by  the  fact  that  the  trial  was 
still  undecided,  but  the  question  was  everywhere 
argued  as  to  how  far  there  could  be  truth  in  Miss 
Morton's  declaration,  and  how  far  it  might  be  a  daring 
ruse  for  the  purpose  of  saving  her  brother.  The 
obvious  dilemma  in  which  the  missing  doctor  stood 
was  that  if  by  any  extraordinary  chance  he  was  not 
dead,  then  he  must  be  held  responsible  for  the  death 


120  THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

of  this  unknown  man,  who  resembled  him  so  exactly, 
and  who  was  found  in  his  study.  This  letter  which 
Miss  Morton  refused  to  produce  was  possibly  a  con- 
fession of  guilt,  and  she  might  find  herself  in  the 
terrible  position  of  only  being  able  to  save  her  brother 
from  the  gallows  by  the  sacrifice  of  her  former  lover. 
The  court  next  morning  was  crammed  to  overflowing, 
and  a  murmur  of  excitement  passed  over  it  when  Mr. 
Humphrey  was  observed  to  enter  in  a  state  of  emotion, 
which  even  his  trained  nerves  could  not  conceal,  and 
to  confer  with  the  opposing  counsel.  A  few  hurried 
words — words  which  left  a  look  of  amazement  upon 
Mr.  Porlock  Carr's  face — passed  between  them,  and 
then  the  counsel  for  the  defence,  addressing  the  judge, 
announced  that,  with  the  consent  of  the  prosecution, 
the  young  lady  who  had  given  evidence  upon  the 
sitting  before  would  not  be  recalled. 

The  Judge:  But  you  appear,  Mr.  Humphrey,  to 
have  left  matters  in  a  very  unsatisfactory  state. 

Mr.  Humphrey :  Perhaps,  my  lord,  my  next  witness 
may  help  to  clear  them  up. 

The  Judge :  Then  call  your  next  witness. 

Mr.  Humphrey :  I  call  Dr.  Aloysius  Lana. 

The  learned  counsel  has  made  many  telling  remarks 
in  his  day,  but  he  has  certainly  never  produced  such  a 
sensation  with  so  short  a  sentence.  The  Court  was 
simply  stunned  with  amazement  as  the  very  man 
whose  fate  had  been  the  subject  of  so  much  contention 
appeared  bodily  before  them  in  the  witness-box.  Those 
among  the  spectators  who  had  known  him  at  Bishop's 
Crossing  saw  him  now,  gaunt  and  thin,  with  deep  lines 


THE  BLACK   DOCTOR  121 

of  care  upon  his  face.  But  in  spite  of  his  melancholy 
bearing  and  despondent  expression,  there  were  few  who 
could  say  that  they  had  ever  seen  a  man  of  more  dis- 
tinguished presence.  Bowing  to  the  judge,  he  asked 
if  he  might  be  allowed  to  make  a  statement,  and  having 
been  duly  informed  that  whatever  he  said  might  be 
used  against  him,  he  bowed  once  more,  and  pro- 
ceeded : — 

"  My  wish,"  said  he,  "  is  to  hold  nothing  back,  but 
to  tell  with  perfect  frankness  all  that  occurred  upon 
the  night  of  the  21st  of  June.  Had  I  known  that  the 
innocent  had  suffered,  and  that  so  much  trouble  had 
been  brought  upon  those  whom  I  love  best  in  the 
world,  I  should  have  come  forward  long  ago ;  but  there 
were  reasons  which  prevented  these  things  from  coming 
to  my  ears.  It  was  my  desire  that  an  unhappy  man 
should  vanish  from  the  world  which  had  known  him, 
but  I  had  not  foreseen  that  others  would  be  affected 
by  my  actions.  Let  me  to  the  best  of  my  ability  repair 
the  evil  which  I  have  done. 

"  To  any  one  who  is  acquainted  with  the  history  of 
the  Argentine  Bepublic  the  name  of  Lana  is  well 
known.  My  father,  who  came  of  the  best  blood  of  old 
Spain,  filled  all  the  highest  offices  of  the  State,  and 
would  have  been  President  but  for  his  death  in  the 
riots  of  San  Juan.  A  brilliant  career  might  have  been 
open  to  my  twin  brother  Ernest  and  myself  had  it  not 
been  for  financial  losses  which  made  it  necessary  that 
we  should  earn  our  own  living.  I  apologize,  sir,  if 
these  details  appear  to  be  irrelevant,  but  they  are  a 
necessary  introduction  to  that  which  is  to  follow. 

"I  had,  as   I  have  said,  a  twin  brother  named 


122  THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

Ernest,  whose  resemblance  to  me  was  so  great  that 
even  when  we  were  together  people  could  see  no 
difference  between  us.  Down  to  the  smallest  detail 
we  were  exactly  the  same.  As  we  grew  older  this 
likeness  became  less  marked  because  our  expression 
was  not  the  same,  but  with  our  features  in  repose  the 
points  of  difference  were  very  slight. 

"It  does  not  become  me  to  say  too  much  of  one 
who  is  dead,  the  more  so  as  he  is  my  only  brother, 
but  I  leave  his  character  to  those  who  knew  him  best. 
I  will  only  say — for  I  have  to  say  it — that  in  my  early 
manhood  I  conceived  a  horror  of  him,  and  that  I  had 
good  reason  for  the  aversion  which  filled  me.  My  own 
reputation  suffered  from  his  actions,  for  our  close  re- 
semblance caused  me  to  be  credited  with  many  of  them. 
Eventually,  in  a  peculiarly  disgraceful  business,  he 
contrived  to  throw  the  whole  odium  upon  me  in  such 
a  way  that  I  was  forced  to  leave  the  Argentine  for 
ever,  and  to  seek  a  career  in  Europe.  The  freedom 
from  his  hated  presence  more  than  compensated  me 
for  the  loss  of  my  native  land.  I  had  enough  money 
to  defray  my  medical  studies  at  Glasgow,  and  I  finally 
settled  in  practice  at  Bishop's  Crossing,  in  the  firm 
conviction  that  in  that  remote  Lancashire  hamlet  I 
should  never  hear  of  him  again. 

"Eor  years  my  hopes  were  fulfilled,  and  then  at 
last  he  discovered  me.  Some  Liverpool  man  who 
visited  Buenos  Ayres  put  him  upon  my  track.  He 
had  lost  all  his  money,  and  he  thought  that  he  would 
come  over  and  share  mine.  Knowing  my  horror  of 
him,  he  rightly  thought  that  I  would  be  willing  to  buy 
him  off.     I  received  a  letter  from  him  saying  that  he 


THE  BLACK   DOCTOR  123 

was  coming.  It  was  at  a  crisis  in  my  own  affairs,  and 
his  arrival  might  conceivably  bring  trouble,  and  even 
disgrace,  upon  some  whom  I  was  especially  bound  to 
shield  from  anything  of  the  kind.  I  took  steps  to 
insure  that  any  evil  which  might  come  should  fall  on 
me  only,  and  that " — here  he  turned  and  looked  at  the 
prisoner — "was  the  cause  of  conduct  upon  my  part 
which  has  been  too  harshly  judged.  My  only  motive 
was  to  screen  those  who  were  dear  to  me  from  any 
possible  connection  with  scandal  or  disgrace.  That 
scandal  and  disgrace  would  come  with  my  brother 
was  only  to  say  that  what  had  been  would  be 
again. 

"My  brother  arrived  himself  one  night  not  very 
long  after  my  receipt  of  the  letter.  I  was  sitting  in 
my  study  after  the  servants  had  gone  to  bed,  when  I 
heard  a  footstep  upon  the  gravel  outside,  and  an  instant 
later  I  saw  his  face  looking  in  at  me  through  the 
window.  He  was  a  clean-shaven  man  like  myself,  and 
the  resemblance  between  us  was  still  so  great  that,  for 
an  instant,  I  thought  it  was  my  own  reflection  in  the 
glass.  He  had  a  dark  patch  over  his  eye,  but  our 
features  were  absolutely  the  same.  Then  he  smiled 
in  a  sardonic  way  which  had  been  a  trick  of  his  from 
his  boyhood,  and  I  knew  that  he  was  the  same  brother 
who  had  driven  me  from  my  native  land,  and  brought 
disgrace  upon  what  had  been  an  honourable  name. 
I  went  to  the  door  and  I  admitted  him.  That  would 
be  about  ten  o'clock  that  night. 

"  When  he  came  into  the  glare  of  the  lamp,  I  saw 
at  once  that  he  had  fallen  upon  very  evil  days.  He 
had  walked  from  Liverpool,  and  he  was  tired  and  ill. 


124  THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

I  was  quite  shocked  by  the  expression  upon  his  face. 
My  medical  knowledge  told  me  that  there  was  some 
serious  internal  malady.  He  had  been  drinking  also, 
and  his  face  was  bruised  as  the  result  of  a  scuffle  which 
he  had  had  with  some  sailors.  It  was  to  cover  his 
injured  eye  that  he  wore  this  patch,  which  he  removed 
when  he  entered  the  room.  He  was  himself  dressed  in 
a  pea-jacket  and  flannel  shirt,  and  his  feet  were  burst- 
ing through  his  boots.  But  his  poverty  had  only  made 
him  more  savagely  vindictive  towards  me.  His  hatred 
rose  to  the  height  of  a  mania.  I  had  been  rolling  in 
money  in  England,  according  to  his  account,  while  he 
had  been  starving  in  South  America.  I  cannot  describe 
to  you  the  threats  which  he  uttered  or  the  insults 
which  he  poured  upon  me.  My  impression  is,  that 
hardships  and  debauchery  had  unhinged  his  reason. 
He  paced  about  the  room  like  a  wild  beast,  demanding 
drink,  demanding  money,  and  all  in  the  foulest 
language.  I  am  a  hot-tempered  man,  but  I  thank 
God  that  I  am  able  to  say  that  I  remained  master  of 
myself,  and  that  I  never  raised  a  hand  against  him. 
My  coolness  only  irritated  him  the  more.  He  raved, 
he  cursed,  he  shook  his  fists  in  my  face,  and  then 
suddenly  a  horrible  spasm  passed  over  his  features, 
he  clapped  his  hand  to  his  side,  and  with  a  loud  cry 
he  fell  in  a  heap  at  my  feet.  I  raised  him  up  and 
stretched  him  upon  the  sofa,  but  no  answer  came  to 
my  exclamations,  and  the  hand  which  I  held  in  mine 
was  cold  and  clammy.  His  diseased  heart  had  broken 
down.    His  own  violence  had  killed  him. 

"  For  a  long  time  I  sat  as  if  I  were  in  some  dreadful 
dream,   staring  at  the  body  of  my  brother.    I  was 


THE  BLACK  DOCTOR  125 

aroused  by  the  knocking  of  Mrs.  Woods,  who  had  been 
disturbed  by  that  dying  cry.  I  sent  her  away  to  bed. 
Shortly  afterwards  a  patient  tapped  at  the  surgery 
door,  but  as  I  took  no  notice,  he  or  she  went  off  again. 
Slowly  and  gradually  as  I  sat  there  a  plan  was  forming 
itself  in  my  head  in  the  curious  automatic  way  in 
which  plans  do  form.  When  I  rose  from  my  chair 
my  future  movements  were  finally,  decided  upon 
without  my  having  been  conscious  of  any  process  of 
thought.  It  was  an  instinct  which  irresistibly  inclined 
me  towards  one  course. 

"Ever  since  that  change  in  my  affairs  to  which 
I  have  alluded,  Bishop's  Crossing  had  become  hateful 
to  me.  My  plans  of  life  had  been  ruined,  and  I 
had  met  with  hasty  judgments  and  unkind  treat- 
ment where  I  had  expected  sympathy.  It  is  true 
that  any  danger  of  scandal  from  my  brother  had 
passed  away  with  his  life ;  but  still,  I  was  sore  about 
the  past,  and  felt  that  things  could  never  be  as  they 
had  been.  It  may  be  that  I  was  unduly  sensitive, 
and  that  I  had  not  made  sufficient  allowance  for 
others,  but  my  feelings  were  as  I  describe.  Any 
chance  of  getting  away  from  Bishop's  Crossing  and 
of  everyone  in  it  would  be  most  welcome  to  me. 
And  here  was  such  a  chance  as  I  could  never  have 
dared  to  hope  for,  a  chance  which  would  enable  me 
to  make  a  clean  break  with  the  past. 

"There  was  this  dead  man  lying  upon  the  sofa, 
so  like  me  that  save  for  some  little  thickness  and 
coarseness  of  the  features  there  was  no  difference 
at  all.  No  one  had  seen  him  come  and  no  one 
would  miss  him.    We  were  both  clean  shaven,  and 


126  THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

his  hair  was  about  the  same  length  as  my  own.  If 
I  changed  clothes  with  him,  then  Dr.  Aloysius  Lana 
would  be  found  lying  dead  in  his  study,  and  there 
would  be  an  end  of  an  unfortunate  fellow,  and  of 
a  blighted  career.  There  was  plenty  of  ready  money 
in  the  room,  and  this  I  could  carry  away  with  me 
to  help  me  to  start  once  more  in  some  other  land. 
In  my  brother's  clothes  I  could  walk  by  night  un- 
observed as  far  as  Liverpool,  and  in  that  great  sea- 
port I  would  soon  find  some  means  of  leaving  the 
country.  After  my  lost  hopes,  the  humblest  existence 
where  I  was  unknown  was  far  preferable,  in  my  estima- 
tion, to  a  practice,  however  successful,  in  Bishop's 
Crossing,  where  at  any  moment  I  might  come  face 
to  face  with  those  whom  I  should  wish,  if  it  were 
possible,  to  forget.  I  determined  to  effect  the 
change. 

"And  I  did  so.  I  will  not  go  into  particulars, 
for  the  recollection  is  as  painful  as  the  experience; 
but  in  an  hour  my  brother  lay,  dressed  down  to 
the  smallest  detail  in  my  clothes,  while  I  slunk 
out  by  the  surgery  door,  and  taking  the  back  path 
which  led  across  some  fields,  I  started  off  to  make 
the  best  of  my  way  to  Liverpool,  where  I  arrived 
the  same  night.  My  bag  of  money  and  a  certain 
portrait  were  all  I  carried  out  of  the  house,  and  I 
left  behind  me  in  my  hurry  the  shade  which  my 
brother  had  been  wearing  over  his  eye.  Everything 
else  of  his  I  took  with  me. 

"I  give  you  my  word,  sir,  that  never  for  one 
instant  did  the  idea  occur  to  me  that  people  might 
think  that  I  had  been  murdered,  nor  did  I  imagine 


THE  BLACK  DOCTOR  127 

that  any  one  might  be  caused  serious  danger  through 
this  stratagem  by  which  I  endeavoured  to  gain  a 
fresh  start  in  the  world.  On  the  contrary,  it  was 
the  thought  of  relieving  others  from  the  burden  of 
my  presence  which  was  always  uppermost  in  my 
mind.  A  sailing  vessel  was  leaving  Liverpool  that 
very  day  for  Corunna,  and  in  this  I  took  my  passage, 
thinking  that  the  voyage  would  give  me  time  to 
recover  my  balance,  and  to  consider  the  future.  But 
before  I  left  my  resolution  softened.  I  bethought 
me  that  there  was  one  person  in  the  world  to  whom 
I  would  not  cause  an  hour  of  sadness.  She  would 
mourn  me  in  her  heart,  however  harsh  and  un- 
sympathetic her  relatives  might  be.  She  understood 
and  appreciated  the  motives  upon  which  I  had  acted, 
and  if  the  rest  of  her  family  condemned  me,  she, 
at  least,  would  not  forget.  And  so  I  sent  her  a 
note  under  the  seal  of  secrecy  to  save  her  from  a 
baseless  grief.  If  under  the  pressure  of  events  she 
broke  that  seal,  she  has  my  entire  sympathy  and 
forgiveness. 

"  It  was  only  last  night  that  I  returned  to  England, 
and  during  all  this  time  I  have  heard  nothing  of  the 
sensation  which  my  supposed  death  had  caused,  nor 
of  the  accusation  that  Mr.  Arthur  Morton  had  been 
concerned  in  it.  It  was  in  a  late  evening  paper  that 
I  read  an  account  of  the  proceedings  of  yesterday,  and 
I  have  come  this  morning  as  fast  as  an  express  train 
could  bring  me  to  testify  to  the  truth." 

Such  was  the  remarkable  statement  of  Dr.  Aloysius 
Lana  which  brought  the  trial  to  a  sudden  termination. 
A  subsequent    investigation   corroborated   it    to    the 


128  THE  BLACK  DOCTOR 

extent  of  finding  out  the  vessel  in  which  his  brother 
Ernest  Lana  had  come  over  from  South  America. 
The  ship's  doctor  was  able  to  testify  that  he  had 
complained  of  a  weak  heart  during  the  voyage,  and 
that  his  symptoms  were  consistent  with  such  a  death 
as  was  described. 

As  to  Dr.  Aloysius  Lana,  he  returned  to  the  village 
from  which  he  had  made  so  dramatic  a  disappearance, 
and  a  complete  reconciliation  was  effected  between 
him  and  the  young  squire,  the  latter  having  acknow- 
ledged that  he  had  entirely  misunderstood  the  other's 
motives  in  withdrawing  from  his  engagement.  That 
another  reconciliation  followed  may  be  judged  from 
a  notice  extracted  from  a  prominent  column  in  the 
Morning  Post : — 

A  marriage  was  solemnized  upon  September  19th, 
by  the  Bev.  Stephen  Johnson,  at  the  parish  church 
of  Bishop's  Crossing,  between  Aloysius  Xavier  Lana, 
son  of  Don  Alfredo  Lana,  formerly  Foreign  Minister 
of  the  Argentine  Kepublic,  and  Frances  Morton,  only 
daughter  of  the  late  James  Morton,  J. P.,  of  Leigh 
Hall,  Bishop's  Crossing,  Lancashire. 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE 

I  cannot  pretend  to  say  what  occurred  on  the  14th 
of  April  last  at  No.  17,  Badderly  Gardens.  Put  down 
in  black  and  white,  my  surmise  might  seem  too  crude, 
too  grotesque,  for  serious  consideration.  And  yet  that 
something  did  occur,  and  that  it  was  of  a  nature  which 
will  leave  its  mark  upon  every  one  of  us  for  the  rest 
of  our  lives,  is  as  certain  as  the  unanimous  testimony 
of  five  witnesses  can  make  it.  I  will  not  enter  into 
any  argument  or  speculation.  I  will  only  give  a  plain 
statement,  which  will  be  submitted  to  John  Moir, 
Harvey  Deacon,  and  Mrs.  Delamere,  and  withheld 
from  publication  unless  they  are  prepared  to  corrobo- 
rate every  detail.  I  cannot  obtain  the  sanction  of  Paul 
Le  Due,  for  he  appears  to  have  left  the  country. 

It  was  John  Moir  (the  well-known  senior  partner  of 
Moir,  Moir,  and  Sanderson)  who  had  originally  turned 
our  attention  to  occult  subjects.  He  had,  like  many 
very  hard  and  practical  men  of  business,  a  mystic  side 
to  his  nature,  which  had  led  him  to  the  examination, 
and  eventually  to  the  acceptance,  of  those  elusive 
phenomena  which  are  grouped  together  with  much  that 
is  foolish,  and  much  that  is  fraudulent,  under  the 
common  heading  of  spiritualism.  His  researches,  which 
had  begun  with  an  open  mind,  ended  unhappily  in 

129  K 


130  PLAYING  WITH   FIRE 

dogma,  and  he  became  as  positive  and  fanatical  as  any 
other  bigot.  He  represented  in  our  little  group  the 
body  of  men  who  have  turned  these  singular  phenomena 
into  a  new  religion. 

Mrs.  Delamere,  our  medium,  was  his  sister,  the 
wife  of  Delamere,  the  rising  sculptor.  Our  experience 
had  shown  us  that  to  work  on  these  subjects  without 
a  medium  was  as  futile  as  for  an  astronomer  to  make 
observations  without  a  telescope.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  introduction  of  a  paid  medium  was  hateful  to  all 
of  us.  Was  it  not  obvious  that  he  or  she  would  feel 
bound  to  return  some  result  for  money  received,  and 
that  the  temptation  to  fraud  would  be  an  overpowering 
one  ?  No  phenomena  could  be  relied  upon  which  were 
produced  at  a  guinea  an  hour.  But,  fortunately,  Moir 
had  discovered  that  his  sister  was  mediumistic — in 
other  words,  that  she  was  a  battery  of  that  animal 
magnetic  force  which  is  the  only  form  of  energy  which 
is  subtle  enough  to  be  acted  upon  from  the  spiritual 
plane  as  well  as  from  our  own  material  one.  Of 
course,  when  I  say  this,  I  do  not  mean  to  beg  the 
question ;  but  I  am  simply  indicating  the  theories 
upon  which  we  were  ourselves,  rightly  or  wrongly, 
explaining  what  we  saw.  The  lady  came,  not  alto- 
gether with  the  approval  of  her  husband,  and  though 
she  never  gave  indications  of  any  very  great  psychic 
force,  we  were  able,  at  least,  to  obtain  those  usual  phe- 
nomena of  message-tilting  which  are  at  the  same  time 
so  puerile  and  so  inexplicable.  Every  Sunday  evening 
we  met  in  Harvey  Deacon's  studio  at  Badderly  Gardens, 
the  next  house  to  the  corner  of  Merton  Park  Road. 

Harvey  Deacon's  imaginative  work  in  art  would 


PLAYING   WITH   FIRE  131 

prepare  any  one  to  find  that  he  was  an  ardent  lover  of 
everything  which  was  outre  and  sensational.  A  certain 
picturesqueness  in  the  study  of  the  occult  had  been  the 
quality  which  had  originally  attracted  him  to  it,  but 
his  attention  was  speedily  arrested  by  some  of  those 
phenomena  to  which  I  have  referred,  and  he  was 
coming  rapidly  to  the  conclusion  that  what  he  had 
looked  upon  as  an  amusing  romance  and  an  after- 
dinner  entertainment  was  really  a  very  formidable 
reality.  He  is  a  man  with  a  remarkably  clear  and 
logical  brain — a  true  descendant  of  his  ancestor,  the 
well-known  Scotch  professor — and  he  represented  in 
our  small  circle  the  critical  element,  the  man  who  has 
no  prejudices,  is  prepared  to  follow  facts  as  far  as  he 
can  see  them,  and  refuses  to  theorize  in  advance  of 
his  data.  His  caution  annoyed  Moir  as  much  as  the 
latter's  robust  faith  amused  Deacon,  but  each  in  hio 
own  way  was  equally  keen  upon  the  matter. 

And  I  ?  What  am  I  to  say  that  I  represented  ?  I 
was  not  the  devotee.  I  was  not  the  scientific  critic. 
Perhaps  the  best  that  I  can  claim  for  myself  is  that  I 
was  the  dilettante  man  about  town,  anxious  to  be  in 
the  swim  of  every  fresh  movement,  thankful  for  any 
new  sensation  which  would  take  me  out  of  myself  and 
open  up  fresh  possibilities  of  existence.  I  am  not  an 
enthusiast  myself,  but  I  like  the  company  of  those 
who  are.  Moir's  talk,  which  made  me  feel  as  if  we 
had  a  private  pass-key  through  the  door  of  death, 
filled  me  with  a  vague  contentment.  The  soothing 
atmosphere  of  the  seance  with  the  darkened  lights  was 
delightful  to  me.  In  a  word,  the  thing  amused  me, 
and  so  I  was  there. 


132  PLAYING  WITH  FIRE 

It  was,  as  I  have  said,  upon  the  14th  of  April 
last  that  the  very  singular  event  which  I  am  about 
to-put  upon  record  took  place.  I  was  the  first  of  the 
men  to  arrive  at  the  studio,  but  Mrs.  Delamere  was 
already  there,  having  had  afternoon  tea  with  Mrs. 
Harvey  Deacon.  The  two  ladies  and  Deacon  himself 
were  standing  in  front  of  an  unfinished  picture  of  his 
upon  the  easel.  I  am  not  an  expert  in  art,  and  I 
have  never  professed  to  understand  what  Harvey  Deacon 
meant  by  his  pictures ;  but  I  could  see  in  this 
instance  that  it  was  all  very  clever  and  imaginative, 
fairies  and  animals  and  allegorical  figures  of  all  sorts. 
The  ladies  were  loud  in  their  praises,  and  indeed  the 
colour  effect  was  a  remarkable  one. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Markham  ? "  he  asked. 

"Well,  it's  above  me,"  said  I.  "These  beasts — 
what  are  they  ? " 

"Mythical  monsters,  imaginary  creatures,  heraldic 
emblems — a  sort  of  weird,  bizarre  procession  of  them." 

"  With  a  white  horse  in  front ! " 

"It's  not  a  horse,"  said  he,  rather  testily — which 
was  surprising,  for  he  was  a  very  good-humoured 
fellow  as  a  rule,  and  hardly  ever  took  himself 
seriously. 

"  What  is  it,  then  ? " 

"  Can't  you  see  the  horn  in  front  ?  It's  a  unicorn. 
I  told  you  they  were  heraldic  beasts.  Can't  you 
recognize  one  ? " 

"  Very  sorry,  Deacon,"  said  I,  for  he  really  seemed 
to  be  annoyed. 

He  laughed  at  his  own  irritation. 

"Excuse  me,  Markham!"  said  he;  "the  fact  is 


PLAYING  WITH  FIKE  133 

that  I  have  had  an  awful  job  over  the  beast.  All 
day  I  have  been  painting  him  in  and  painting  him 
out,  and  trying  to  imagine  what  a  real  live,  ramping 
unicorn  would  look  like.  At  last  I  got  him,  as  I 
hoped ;  so  when  you  failed  to  recognize  it,  it  took  me 
on  the  raw." 

"Why,  of  course  it's  a  unicorn,"  said  I,  for  he 
was  evidently  depressed  at  my  obtuseness.  "I  can 
see  the  horn  quite  plainly,  but  I  never  saw  a  unicorn 
except  beside  the  Royal  Arms,  and  so  I  never  thought 
of  the  creature.  And  these  others  are  griffins  and 
cockatrices,  and  dragons  of  sorts  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  had  no  difficulty  with  them.  It  was  the 
unicorn  which  bothered  me.  However,  there's  an  end 
of  it  until  to-morrow."  He  turned  the  picture  round 
upon  the  easel,  and  we  all  chatted  about  other 
subjects. 

Moir  was  late  that  evening,  and  when  he  did 
arrive  he  brought  with  him,  rather  to  our  surprise, 
a  small,  stout  Frenchman,  whom  he  introduced  as 
Monsieur  Paul  Le  Due.  I  say  to  our  surprise,  for 
we  held  a  theory  that  any  intrusion  into  our  spiritual 
circle  deranged  the  conditions,  and  introduced  an 
element  of  suspicion.  "We  knew  that  we  could  trust 
each  other,  but  all  our  results  were  vitiated  by  the 
presence  of  an  outsider.  However,  Moir  soon  recon- 
ciled us  to  the  innovation.  Monsieur  Paul  Le  Due 
was  a  famous  student  of  occultism,  a  seer,  a  medium, 
and  a  mystic.  He  was  travelling  in  England  with 
a  letter  of  introduction  to  Moir  from  the  President 
of  the  Parisian  brothers  of  the  Ptosy  Cross.  What 
more  natural  than  that  he  should  bring  him  to  our 


134  PLAYING  WITH  FIRE 

little  stance,  or  that  we  should  feel  honoured  by  his 
presence  ? 

He  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  small,  stout  man, 
undistinguished  in  appearance,  with  a  broad,  smooth, 
clean-shaven  face,  remarkable  only  for  a  pair  of  large, 
brown,  velvety  eyes,  staring  vaguely  out  in  front  of 
him.  He  was  well  dressed,  with  the  manners  of  a 
gentleman,  and  his  curious  little  turns  of  English 
speech  set  the  ladies  smiling.  Mrs.  Deacon  had  a 
prejudice  against  our  researches  and  left  the  room, 
upon  which  we  lowered  the  lights,  as  was  our  custom, 
and  drew  up  our  chairs  to  the  square  mahogany  table 
which  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  studio.  The  light 
was  subdued,  but  sufficient  to  allow  us  to  see  each 
other  quite  plainly.  I  remember  that  I  could  even 
observe  the  curious,  podgy  little  square-topped  hands 
which  the  Frenchman  laid  upon  the  table. 

"  What  a  fun !  "  said  he.  "  It  is  many  years 
since  I  have  sat  in  this  fashion,  and  it  is  to  me 
amusing.  Madame  is  medium.  Does  madame  make 
the  trance  ? " 

"Well,  hardly  that,"  said  Mrs.  Delamere.  "But 
I  am  always  conscious  of  extreme  sleepiness." 

"  It  is  the  first  stage.  Then  you  encourage  it,  and 
there  comes  the  trance.  When  the  trance  comes,  then 
out  jumps  your  little  spirit  and  in  jumps  another 
little  spirit,  and  so  you  have  direct  talking  or  writing. 
You  leave  your  machine  to  be  worked  by  another. 
Hein  t    But  what  have  unicorns  to  do  with  it  ? " 

Harvey  Deacon  started  in  his  chair.  The  French- 
man was  moving  his  head  slowly  round  and  staring 
into  the  shadows  which  draped  the  walls. 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  135 

"  What  a  fun  !  "  said  he.  "  Always  unicorns. 
Who  has  been  thinking  so  hard  upon  a  subject  so 
bizarre  ? " 

"This  is  wonderful!  "  cried  Deacon.  "I  have 
been  trying  to  paint  one  all  day.  But  how  could  you 
know  it  ? " 

•  You  have  been  thinking  of  them  in  this  room." 

"  Certainly." 

"But  thoughts  are  things,  my  friend.  WTien  you 
imagine  a  thing  you  make  a  thing.  You  did  not 
know  it,  hein  f  But  I  can  see  your  unicorns  because 
it  is  not  only  with  my  eye  that  I  can  see." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  create  a  thing  which 
has  never  existed  by  merely  thinking  of  it  ?  " 

"But  certainly.  It  is  the  fact  which  lies  under 
all  other  facts.  That  is  why  an  evil  thought  is  also 
a  danger." 

"  They  are,  I  suppose,  upon  the  astral  plane  ? "  said 
Moir. 

"  Ah,  well,  these  are  but  words,  my  friends.  They 
are  there — somewhere — everywhere — I  cannot  tell 
myself.     I  see  them.     I  could  not  touch  them." 

"  You  could  not  make  us  see  them." 

"It  is  to  materialize  them.  Hold!  It  is  an  ex- 
periment. But  the  power  is  wanting.  Let  us  see 
what  power  we  have,  and  then  arrange  what  we  shall 
do.     May  I  place  you  as  I  should  wish  ? " 

"You  evidently  know  a  great  deal  more  about  it 
than  we  do,"  said  Harvey  Deacon ;  "  I  wish  that  you 
would  take  complete  control." 

"  It  may  be  that  the  conditions  are  not  good.  But 
we  will  try  what  we  can  do.    Madame  will  sit  where 


136  PLAYING   WITH   FIRE 

she  is,  I  next,  and  this  gentleman  beside  me.  Meester 
Moir  will  sit  next  to  madame,  because  it  is  well  to 
have  blacks  and  blondes  in  turn.  So !  And  now  with 
your  permission  I  will  turn  the  lights  all  out." 

"  What  is  the  advantage  of  the  dark  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Because  the  force  with  which  we  deal  is  a 
vibration  of  ether  and  so  also  is  light.  We  have  the 
wires  all  for  ourselves  now — hein?  You  will  not  be 
frightened  in  the  darkness,  madame  ?  What  a  fun  is 
such  a  seance ! " 

At  first  the  darkness  appeared  to  be  absolutely 
pitchy,  but  in  a  few  minutes  our  eyes  became  so  far 
accustomed  to  it  that  we  could  just  make  out  each 
other's  presence — very  dimly  and  vaguely,  it  is  true. 
I  could  see  nothing  else  in  the  room — only  the  black 
loom  of  the  motionless  figures.  We  were  all  taking 
the  matter  much  more  seriously  than  we  had  ever  done 
before. 

"  You  will  place  your  hands  in  front.  It  is  hope- 
less that  we  touch,  since  we  are  so  few  round  so  large 
a  table.  You  will  compose  yourself,  madame,  and  if 
sleep  should  come  to  you  you  will  not  fight  against 

it.     And  now  we  sit  in  silence  and  we  expect 

hein  ?  " 

So  we  sat  in  silence  and  expected,  staring  out  into 
the  blackness  in  front  of  us.  A  clock  ticked  in  the 
passage.  A  dog  barked  intermittently  far  away.  Once 
or  twice  a  cab  rattled  past  in  the  street,  and  the  gleam 
of  its  lamps  through  the  chink  in  the  curtains  wa3 
a  cheerful  break  in  that  gloomy  vigil.  I  felt  those 
physical  symptoms  with  which  previous  seances  had 
made  me  familiar — the  coldness  of  the  feet,  the  tingling 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  137 

in  the  hands,  the  glow  of  the  palms,  the  feeling  of  a 
cold  wind  upon  the  back.  Strange  little  shooting 
pains  came  in  my  forearms,  especially  as  it  seemed 
to  me  in  my  left  one,  which  was  nearest  to  our 
visitor — due  no  doubt  to  disturbance  of  the  vascular 
system,  but  worthy  of  some  attention  all  the  same. 
At  the  same  time  I  was  conscious  of  a  strained  feeling 
of  expectancy  which  was  almost  painful.  From  the 
rigid>  absolute  silence  of  my  companions  I  gathered 
that  their  nerves  were  as  tense  as  my  own. 

And  then  suddenly  a  sound  came  out  of  the  dark- 
ness— a  low,  sibilant  sound,  the  quick,  thin  breathing 
of  a  woman.  Quicker  and  thinner  yet  it  came,  as 
between  clenched  teeth,  to  end  in  a  loud  gasp  with  a 
dull  rustle  of  cloth. 

"  What's  that  ?  Is  all  right  ?  "  someone  asked  in 
the  darkness. 

"Yes,  all  is  right,"  said  the  Frenchman.  "It  i3 
madame.  She  is  in  her  trance.  Now,  gentlemen,  if 
you  will  wait  quiet  you  will  see  something,  I  think, 
which  will  interest  you  much." 

Still  the  ticking  in  the  hall.  Still  the  breathing, 
deeper  and  fuller  now,  from  the  medium.  Still  the 
occasional  flash,  more  welcome  than  ever,  of  the  pass- 
ing lights  of  the  hansoms.  What  a  gap  we  were  bridging, 
the  half-raised  veil  of  the  eternal  on  the  one  side  and 
the  cabs  of  London  on  the  other.  The  table  was 
throbbing  with  a  mighty  pulse.  It  swayed  steadily, 
rhythmically,  with  an  easy  swooping,  scooping  motion 
under  our  fingers.  Sharp  little  raps  and  cracks  came 
from  its  substance,  file-firing,  volley-firing,  the  sounds 
of  a  fagot  burning  briskly  on  a  frosty  night. 


138  PLAYING  WITH  FIRE 

*  There  is  much  power,"  said  the  Frenchman.  "  See 
it  on  the  table ! " 

I  had  thought  it  was  some  delusion  of  my  own,  but 
all  could  see  it  now.  There  was  a  greenish-yellow 
phosphorescent  light — or  I  should  say  a  luminous 
vapour  rather  than  a  light — which  lay  over  the  surface 
of  the  table.  It  rolled  and  wreathed  and  undulated  in 
dim  glimmering  folds,  turning  and  swirling  like  clouds 
of  smoke.  I  could  see  the  white,  square-ended  hands 
of  the  French  medium  in  this  baleful  light. 

"  What  a  fun !  *  he  cried.     "  It  is  splendid  ! " 

"  Shall  we  call  the  alphabet  ? "  asked  Moir. 

"  But  no — for  we  can  do  much  better,"  said  our 
visitor.  "  It  is  but  a  clumsy  thing  to  tilt  the  table  for 
every  letter  of  the  alphabet,  and  with  such  a  medium 
as  madame  we  should  do  better  than  that." 

"  Yes,  you  will  do  better,"  said  a  voice. 

"  Who  was  that  ?  Who  spoke  ?  Was  that  you, 
Markham  ?  " 

"  No,  I  did  not  speak." 

"  It  was  madame  who  spoke." 

"  But  it  was  not  her  voice." 

"  Is  that  you,  Mrs.  Delamere  ? " 

"  It  is  not  the  medium,  but  it  is  the  power  which 
uses  the  organs  of  the  medium,"  said  the  strange,  deep 
voice. 

"  Where  is  Mrs.  Delamere  ?  It  will  not  hurt  her, 
I  trust." 

"The  medium  is  happy  in  another  plane  of 
existence.  She  has  taken  my  place,  as  I  have 
taken  hers." 

u  Who  are  you  ? " 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  139 

"It  cannot  matter  to  you  who  I  am.  I  am  one 
who  has  lived  as  you  are  living,  and  who  has  died  as 
you  will  die." 

We  heard  the  creak  and  grate  of  a  cab  pulling  up 
next  door.  There  was  an  argument  about  the  fare,  and 
the  cabman  grumbled  hoarsely  down  the  street.  The 
green-yellow  cloud  still  swirled  faintly  over  the  table, 
dull  elsewhere,  but  glowiDg  into  a  dim  luminosity  in 
the  direction  of  the  medium.  It  seemed  to  be  piling 
itself  up  in  front  of  her.  A  sense  of  fear  and  cold 
struck  into  my  heart.  It  seemed  to  me  that  lightly 
and  flippantly  we  had  approached  the  most  real  and 
august  of  sacraments,  that  communion  with  the  dead  of 
which  the  fathers  of  the  Church  had  spoken. 

"  Don't  you  think  we  are  going  too  far  ?  Should 
we  not  break  up  this  seance  ?  "  I  cried. 

But  the  others  were  all  earnest  to  see  the  end  of  it. 
They  laughed  at  my  scruples. 

"All  the  powers  are  made  for  use,"  said  Harvey 
Deacon.  "  If  we  can  do  this,  we  should  do  this.  Every 
new  departure  of  knowledge  has  been  called  unlawful 
in  its  inception.  It  is  right  and  proper  that  we  should 
inquire  into  the  nature  of  death." 

"  It  is  right  and  proper,"  said  the  voice. 

"  There,  what  more  could  you  ask  ? "  cried  Moir, 
who  was  much  excited.  "Let  us  have  a  test.  Will 
you  give  us  a  test  that  you  are  really  there  ? " 

"  What  test  do  you  demand  ? " 

"Well,  now — I  have  some  coins  in  my  pocket. 
Will  you  tell  me  how  many  ? " 

"  We  come  back  in  the  hope  of  teaching  and  of 
elevating,  and  not  to  guess  childish  riddles." 


140  PLAYING  WITH  FIRE 

"Ha,  ha,  Meester  Moir,  you  catch  it  that  time," 
tjried  the  Frenchman.  "  But  surely  this  is  very  good 
sense  what  the  Control  is  saying." 

*  It  is  a  religion,  not  a  game,"  said  the  cold,  hard 
voice. 

"Exactly — the  very  view  I  take  of  it,"  cried 
Moir.  "  I  am  sure  I  am  very  sorry  if  I  have  asked 
a  foolish  question.  You  will  not  tell  me  who  you 
are  ? " 

"  What  does  it  matter  ?  * 

*  Have  you  been  a  spirit  long  ? " 
"Yes." 

"How  long?" 

"We  cannot  reckon  time  as  you  do.  Our  con- 
ditions are  different." 

"  Are  you  happy  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  would  not  wish  to  come  back  to  life  ?  " 

"  No — certainly  not." 

"  Are  you  busy  ? " 

"  We  could  not  be  happy  if  we  were  not  busy." 

"What  do  you  do?" 

"I  have  said  that  the  conditions  are  entirely 
different." 

"  Can  you  give  us  no  idea  of  your  work  ?  * 

"  We  labour  for  our  own  improvement  and  for  the 
advancement  of  others." 

"  Do  you  like  coming  here  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  come  if  I  can  do  any  good  by 
coming." 

"  Then  to  do  good  is  your  object  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  object  of  all  life  on  every  plane." 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  141 

"You  see,  Markham,  that  should  answer  your 
scruples." 

It  did,  for  my  doubts  had  passed  and  only  interest 
remained. 

"  Have  you  pain  in  your  life  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No ;  pain  is  a  thing  of  the  body." 

*  Have  you  mental  pain  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  one  may  always  be  sad  or  anxious." 
"  Do  you  meet  the  friends  whom  you  have  known 
on  earth  ? " 

"  Some  of  them." 

*  Why  only  some  of  them  ?  " 

*  Only  those  who  are  sympathetic" 

*  Do  husbands  meet  wives  ? " 

■  Those  who  have  truly  loved." 

*  And  the  others  ?  " 

"  They  are  nothing  to  each  other." 

"  There  must  be  a  spiritual  connection  ? " 

"  Of  course." 

"  Is  what  we  are  doing  right  ? " 

"  If  done  in  the  right  spirit." 

"  What  is  the  wrong  spirit  ? " 

*  Curiosity  and  levity." 

"  May  harm  come  of  that  1 " 

"  Very  serious  harm." 

"  What  sort  of  harm  ? " 

"  You  may  call  up  forces  over  which  you  have  no 
control."  J 

"  Evil  forces  ?  " 

"  Undeveloped  forces." 

"  You  say  they  are  dangerous.  Dangerous  to  body 
or  mind  ? " 


142  PLAYING  WITH  FIKE 

"  Sometimes  to  both." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  the  blackness  seemed  to 
grow  blacker  still,  while  the  yellow-green  fog  swirled 
and  smoked  upon  the  table. 

"  Any  questions  you  would  like  to  ask,  Moir  ? " 
said  Harvey  Deacon. 

"  Only  this — do  you  pray  in  your  world  ?  " 

"  One  should  pray  in  every  world." 

"Why?" 

"Because  it  is  the  acknowledgment  of  forces 
outside  ourselves." 

"  What  religion  do  you  hold  over  there  ? " 

"  We  differ  exactly  as  you  do." 

"  You  have  no  certain  knowledge  ? " 

"We  have  only  faith." 

"  These  questions  of  religion,"  said  the  Frenchman, 
"  they  are  of  interest  to  you  serious  English  people,  but 
they  are  not  so  much  fun.  It  seems  to  me  that  with 
this  power  here  we  might  be  able  to  have  some  great 
experience  —  hein  t  Something  of  which  we  could 
talk." 

"  But  nothing  could  be  more  interesting  than  this," 
said  Moir. 

"Well,  if  you  think  so,  that  is  very  well,"  the 
Frenchman  answered,  peevishly.  "For  my  part,  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  have  heard  all  this  before,  and  that 
to-night  I  should  weesh  to  try  some  experiment  with 
all  this  force  which  is  given  to  us.  But  if  you  have 
other  questions,  then  ask  them,  and  when  you  are 
finish  we  can  try  something  more." 

But  the  spell  was  broken.  We  asked  and  asked, 
but  the  medium  sat  silent  in  her  chair.    Only  her 


PLAYING   WITH  FIRE  143 

deep,  regular  breathing  showed  that  she  was  there. 
The  mist  still  swirled  upon  the  table. 

"You  have  disturbed  the  harmony.  She  will  not 
answer." 

"But  we  have  learned  already  all  that  .she  can  tell 
— hein  ?  For  my  part  I  wish  to  see  something  that  I 
have  never  seen  before." 

"What  then?" 

"You  will  let  me  try?" 

"What  would  you  do?" 

"  I  have  said  to  you  that  thoughts  are  things.  Now 
I  wish  to  prove  it  to  you,  and  to  show  you  that  which 
is  only  a  thought.  Yes,  yes,  I  can  do  it  and  you  will 
see.  Now  I  ask  you  only  to  sit  still  and  say 
nothing,  and  keep  ever  your  hands  quiet  upon  the 
table." 

The  room  was  blacker  and  more  silent  than  ever. 
The  same  feeling  of  apprehension  which  had  lain 
heavily  upon  me  at  the  beginning  of  the  seance  was 
back  at  my  heart  once  more.  The  roots  of  my  hair 
were  tingling. 

"  It  is  working  !  It  is  working ! "  cried  the  French- 
man, and  there  was  a  crack  in  his  voice  as  he  spoke 
which  told  me  that  he  also  was  strung  to  his 
tightest. 

The  luminous  fog  drifted  slowly  off  the  table,  and 
wavered  and  flickered  across  the  room.  There  in  the 
farther  and  darkest  corner  it  gathered  and  glowed, 
hardening  down  into  a  shining  core — a  strange,  shifty, 
luminous,  and  yet  non-illuminating  patch  of  radiance, 
bright  itself,  but  throwing  no  rays  into  the  dark* 
ness.    It  had  changed  from  a  greenish-yellow  to  a 


144  PLAYING  WITH   FIRE 

dusky  sullen  red.  Then  round  this  centre  there  coiled 
a  dark,  smoky  substance,  thickening,  hardening,  grow- 
ing denser  and  blacker.  And  then  the  light  went  out, 
smothered  in  that  which  had  grown  round  it. 

"  It  has  gone." 

"  Hush — there's  something  in  the  room." 

We  heard  it  in  the  corner  where  the  light  had  been, 
something  which  breathed  deeply  and  fidgeted  in  the 
darkness. 

"  What  is  it  ?    Le  Due,  what  have  you  done  ? " 

"It  is  all  right.  No  harm  will  come."  The 
Frenchman's  voice  was  treble  with  agitation. 

"  Good  heavens,  Moir,  there's  a  large  animal  in  the 
room.  Here  it  is,  close  by  my  chair !  Go  away !  Go 
away ! " 

It  was  Harvey  Deacon's  voice,  and  then  came  the 
sound  of  a  blow  upon  some  hard  object.  And  then  .  .  . 
And  then  .  .  .  how  can  I  tell  you  what  happened 
then  ? 

Some  huge  thing  hurtled  against  us  in  the  darkness, 
rearing,  stamping,  smashing,  springing,  snorting.  The 
table  was  splintered.  We  were  scattered  in  every 
direction.  It  clattered  and  scrambled  amongst  us, 
rushing  with  horrible  energy  from  one  corner  of  the 
room  to  another.  We  were  all  screaming  with  fear, 
grovelling  upon  our  hands  and  knees  to  get  away  from 
it.  Something  trod  upon  my  left  hand,  and  I  felt  the 
bones  splinter  under  the  weight. 

"  A  light !     A  light ! "  someone  yelled. 

"  Moir,  you  have  matches,  matches  ! " 

"  No,  I  have  none.  Deacon,  where  are  the  matches  ? 
For  God's  sake,  the  matches ! " 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  145 

"I  can't  find  them.  Here,  you  Frenchman,  stop 
it!" 

"  It  is  beyond  me.  Oh,  mon  Dieu,  I  cannot  stop  it. 
The  door !    Where  is  the  door  ? " 

My  hand,  by  good  luck,  lit  upon  the  handle  as  I 
groped  about  in  the  darkness.  The  hard-breathing, 
snorting,  rushing  creature  tore  past  me  and  butted  with 
a  fearful  crash  against  the  oaken  partition.  The  in- 
stant that  it  had  passed  I  turned  the  handle,  and  next 
moment  we  were  all  outside  and  the  door  shut  behind 
us.  From  within  came  a  horrible  crashing  and  rending 
and  stamping. 

"  What  is  it  ?     In  Heaven's  name,  what  is  it  ? " 

"A  horse.  I  saw  it  when  the  door  opened.  But 
Mrs.  Delamere ?" 

"  We  must  fetch  her  out.  Come  on,  Markham ; 
the  longer  we  wait  the  less  we  shall  like  it." 

He  flung  open  the  door  and  we  rushed  in.  She  was 
there  on  the  ground  amidst  the  splinters  of  her  chair. 
We  seized  her  and  dragged  her  swiftly  out,  and  as  we 
gained  the  door  I  looked  over  my  shoulder  into  the 
darkness.  There  were  two  strange  eyes  glowing  at  us, 
a  rattle  of  hoofs,  and  I  had  just  time  to  slam  the  door 
when  there  came  a  crash  upon  it  which  split  it  from 
top  to  bottom. 

"  It's  coming  through !     It's  coming  ! " 

"Kun,  run  for  your  lives!"  cried  the  French- 
man. 

Another  crash,  and  something  shot  through  the 
riven  door.  It  was  a  long  white  spike,  gleaming  in 
the  lamplight.  For  a  moment  it  shone  before  us,  and 
then  with  a  snap  it  disappeared  again. 

L 


14G  PLAYING  WITH  FIRE 

"  Quick  !  Quick  !  This  way  !  "  Harvey  Deacon 
shouted.     "  Carry  her  in !     Here  !     Quick ! " 

We  had  taken  refuge  in  the  dining-room,  and  shut 
the  heavy  oak  door.  We  laid  the  senseless  woman 
upon  the  sofa,  and  as  we  did  so,  Moir,  the  hard  man  of 
business,  drooped  and  fainted  across  the  hearthrug. 
Harvey  Deacon  was  as  white  as  a  corpse,  jerking  and 
twitching  like  an  epileptic.  With  a  crash  we  heard 
the  studio  door  fly  to  pieces,  and  the  snorting  and 
stamping  were  in  the  passage,  up  and  down,  up  and 
down,  shaking  the  house  with  their  fury.  The  French- 
man had  sunk  his  face  on  his  hands,  and  sobbed  like  a 
frightened  child. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ? "  I  shook  him  roughly  by  the 
shoulder.     "  Is  a  gun  any  use  ? " 

"No,  no.  The  power  will  pass.  Then  it  will 
end." 

"  You  might  have  killed  us  all — you  unspeakable 
fool — with  your  infernal  experiments."   . 

"  I  did  not  know.  How  could  I  tell  that  it  would 
be  frightened  ?  It  is  mad  with  terror.  It  was  his 
fault.     He  struck  it." 

Harvey  Deacon  sprang  up.  "Good  heavens!"  he 
cried. 

A  terrible  scream  sounded  through  the  house. 

"  It's  my  wife !  Here,  I'm  going  out.  If  it's  the 
Evil  One  himself  I  am  going  out !  " 

He  had  thrown  open  the  door  and  rushed  out  into 
the  passage.  At  the  end  of  it,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
Mrs.  Deacon  was  lying  senseless,  struck  down  by 
the  sight  which  she  had  seen.  But  there  was  nothing 
else. 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  147 

With  eyes  of  horror  we  looked  about  us,  but  all  was 
perfectly  quiet  and  still.  I  approached  the  black 
square  of  the  studio  door,  expecting  with  every  slow 
step  that  some  atrocious  shape  would  hurl  itself  out 
of  it.  But  nothing  came,  and  all  was  silent  inside  the 
room.  Peeping  and  peering,  our  hearts  in  our  mouths, 
we  came  to  the  very  threshold,  and  stared  into  the 
darkness.  There  was  still  no  sound,  but  in  one  direc- 
tion there  was  also  no  darkness.  A  luminous,  glowing 
cloud,  with  an  incandescent  centre,  hovered  in  the  corner 
of  the  room.  Slowly  it  dimmed  and  faded,  growing 
thinner  and  fainter,  until  at  last  the  same  dense,  velvety 
blackness  filled  the  whole  studio.  And  with  the  last 
flickering  gleam  of  that  baleful  light  the  Frenchman 
broke  into  a  shout  of  joy. 

"What  a  fun!"  he  cried.  "No  one  is  hurt,  and 
Only  the  door  broken,  and  the  ladies  frightened.  But, 
my  friends,  we  have  done  what  has  never  been  done 
before." 

"  And  as  far  as  I  can  help  it,"  said  Harvey  Deacon, 
"  it  will  certainly  never  be  done  again." 

And  that  was  what  befell  on  the  14th  of  April 
last  at  No.  17,  Badderly  Gardens.  I  began  by  saying 
that  it  would  seem  too  grotesque  to  dogmatize  as  to 
what  it  was  which  actually  did  occur;  but  I  give 
my  impressions,  our  impressions  (since  they  are  cor- 
roborated by  Harvey  Deacon  and  John  Moir),  for 
what  they  are  worth.  You  may,  if  it  pleases  you, 
imagine  that  we  were  the  victims  of  an  elaborate  and 
extraordinary  hoax.  Or  you  may  think  with  us  that 
we  underwent  a  very  real  and  a  very  terrible 
experience.     Or  perhaps  you  may  know  more  than 


148  PLAYING  WITH  FIRE 

we  do  of  such  occult  matters,  and  can  inform  us  of 
some  similar  occurrence.  In  this  latter  case  a  letter 
to  William  Markham,  146m,  The  Albany,  would 
help  to  throw  a  light  upon  that  which  is  very  dark 
to  us. 


THE  JEWS  BREASTPLATE 

My  particular  friend  Ward  Mortimer  was  one  of  the 
best  men  of  his  day  at  everything  connected  with 
Oriental  archaeology.  He  had  written  largely  upon  the 
subject,  he  had  lived  two  years  in  a  tomb  at  Thebes, 
while  he  excavated  in  the  Valley  of  the  Kings,  and 
finally  he  had  created  a  considerable  sensation  by  his 
exhumation  of  the  alleged  mummy  of  Cleopatra  in  the 
inner  room  of  the  Temple  of  Horus,  at  Philse.  With 
such  a  record  at  the  age  of  thirty-one,  it  was  felt  that 
a  considerable  career  lay  before  him,  and  no  one  was 
surprised  when  he  was  elected  to  the  curatorship  of 
the  Belmore  Street  Museum,  which  carries  with  it 
the  lectureship  at  the  Oriental  College,  and  an  income 
which  has  sunk  with  the  fall  in  land,  but  which  still 
remains  at  that  ideal  sum  which  is  large  enough  to 
encourage  an  investigator,  but  not  so  large  as  to 
enervate  him. 

There  was  only  one  reason  which  made  Ward 
Mortimer's  position  a  little  difficult  at  the  Belmore 
Street  Museum,  and  that  was  the  extreme  eminence 
of  the  man  whom  he  had  to  succeed.  Professor  Andreas 
was  a  profound  scholar  and  a  man  of  European  reputa- 
tion. His  lectures  were  frequented  by  students  from 
every  part  of  the  world,  and  his  admirable  management 

149 


150  THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE 

of  the  collection  intrusted  to  his  care  was  a  common- 
place in  all  learned  societies.  There  was,  therefore, 
considerable  surprise  when,  at  the  age  of  fifty-five,  he 
suddenly  resigned  his  position  and  retired  from  those 
duties  which  had  been  both  his  livelihood  and  his 
pleasure.  He  and  his  daughter  left  the  comfortable 
suite  of  rooms  which  had  formed  his  official  residence 
in  connection  with  the  museum,  and  my  friend, 
Mortimer,  who  was  a  bachelor,  took  up  his  quarters 
there. 

On  hearing  of  Mortimer's  appointment  Professor 
Andreas  had  written  him  a  very  kindly  and  flatter- 
ing congratulatory  letter.  I  was  actually  present  at 
their  first  meeting,  and  I  went  with  Mortimer  round 
the  museum  when  the  Professor  showed  us  the  admir- 
able collection  which  he  had  cherished  so  long.  The 
Professor's  beautiful  daughter  and  a  young  man, 
Captain  Wilson,  who  was,  as  I  understood,  soon  to 
be  her  husband,  accompanied  us  in  our  inspection. 
There  were  fifteen  rooms,  but  the  Babylonian,  the 
Syrian,  and  the  central  hall,  which  contained  the 
Jewish  and  Egyptian  collection,  were  the  finest  of  all. 
Professor  Andreas  was  a  quiet,  dry,  elderly  man,  with 
a  clean-shaven  face  and  an  impassive  manner,  but  his 
dark  eyes  sparkled  and  his  features  quickened  into 
enthusiastic  life  as  he  pointed  out  to  us  the  rarity  and 
the  beauty  of  some  of  his  specimens.  His  hand  lingered 
so  fondly  over  them,  that  one  could  read  his  pride  in 
tbem  and  the  grief  in  his  heart  now  that  they  were 
passing  from  his  care  into  that  of  another. 

He  had  shown  us  in  turn  his  mummies,  his  papyri, 
his  rare  scarabs,  his  inscriptions,  his  Jewish  relics,  and 


THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE  151 

his  duplication  of  the  famous  seven-branched  candle- 
stick of  the  Temple,  which  was  brought  to  Eome  by- 
Titus,  and  which  is  supposed  by  some  to  be  lying  at 
this  instant  in  the  bed  of  the  Tiber.  Then  he  ap- 
proached a  case  which  stood  in  the  very  centre  of  the 
hall,  and  he  looked  down  through  the  glass  with 
reverence  in  his  attitude  and  manner. 

"This  is  no  novelty  to  an  expert  like  yourself, 
Mr.  Mortimer,"  said  he ;  "  but  I  daresay  that  your 
friend,  Mr.  Jackson,  will  be  interested  to  see  it." 

Leaning  over  the  case  I  saw  an  object,  some  five 
inches  square,  which  consisted  of  twelve  precious 
stones  in  a  framework  of  gold,  with  golden  hooks  at 
two  of  the  corners.  The  stones  were  all  varying  in 
sort  and  colour,  but  they  were  of  the  same  size.  Their 
shapes,  arrangement,  and  gradation  of  tint  made  me 
think  of  a  box  of  water-colour  paints.  Each  stone 
had  some  hieroglyphic  scratched  upon  its  surface. 

"You  have  heard,  Mr.  Jackson,  of  the  urim  and 
thummim  ? " 

I  had  heard  the  term,  but  my  idea  of  its  meaning 
was  exceedingly  vague. 

"  The  urim  and  thummim  was  a  name  given  to  the 
jewelled  plate  which  lay  upon  the  breast  of  the  high 
priest  of  the  Jews.  They  had  a  very  special  feeling 
of  reverence  for  it — something  of  the  feeling  which 
an  ancient  Roman  might  have  for  the  Sibylline  books 
in  the  Capitol.  There  are,  as  you  see,  twelve  mag- 
nificent stones,  inscribed  with  mystical  characters. 
Counting  from  the  left-hand  top  corner,  the  stones 
are  carnelian,  peridot,  emerald,  ruby,  lapis  lazuli,  onyx, 
sapphire,  agate,  amethyst,  topaz,  beryl,  and  jasper." 


152  THE  JEW'S  BKEASTPLATE 

I  was  amazed  at  the  variety  and  beauty  of  the 
stones. 

"Has  the  breastplate  any  particular  history?"  I 
asked. 

"It  is  of  great  age  and  of  immense  value,"  said 
Professor  Andreas.  "Without  being  able  to  make 
an  absolute  assertion,  we  have  many  reasons  to  think 
that  it  is  possible  that  it  may  be  the  original  urim 
and  thummim  of  Solomon's  Temple.  There  is  certainly 
nothing  so  fine  in  any  collection  in  Europe.  My 
friend,  Captain  Wilson  here,  is  a  practical  authority 
upon  precious  stones,  and  he  would  tell  you  how  pure 
these  are." 

Captain  Wilson,  a  man  with  a  dark,  hard,  incisive 
face,  was  standing  beside  his  fiancee  at  the  other  side 
of  the  case. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  curtly,  "I  have  never  seen  finer 
stones." 

"  And  the  gold- work  is  also  worthy  of  attention. 

The  ancients  excelled    in " — he  was  apparently 

about  to  indicate  the  setting  of  the  stones,  when 
Captain  Wilson  interrupted  him. 

"  You  will  see  a  finer  example  of  their  gold-work 
in  this  candlestick,"  said  he,  turning  to  another  table, 
and  we  all  joined  him  in  his  admiration  of  its  em- 
bossed stem  and  delicately  ornamented  branches. 
Altogether  it  was  an  interesting  and  a  novel  experience 
to  have  objects  of  such  rarity  explained  by  so  great 
an  expert ;  and  when,  finally,  Professor  Andreas 
finished  our  inspection  by  formally  handing  over  the 
precious  collection  to  the  care  of  my  friend,  I  could 
not  help  pitying  him  and  envying  his  successor  whose 


THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE  153 

life  was  to  pass  in  so  pleasant  a  duty.  Within  a  week, 
Ward  Mortimer  was  duly  installed  in  his  new  set  of 
rooms,  and  had  become  the  autocrat  of  the  Belmore 
Street  Museum. 

About  a  fortnight  afterwards  my  friend  gave  a 
small  dinner  to  half-a-dozen  bachelor  friends  to  cele- 
brate his  promotion.  When  his  guests  were  departing 
he  pulled  my  sleeve  and  signalled  to  me  that  he  wished 
me  to  remain. 

"  You  have  only  a  few  hundred  yards  to  go,"  said 
he — I  was  living  in  chambers  in  the  Albany.  "  You 
may  as  well  stay  and  have  a  quiet  cigar  with  me.  I 
very  much  want  your  advice." 

I  relapsed  into  an  arm-chair  and  lit  one  of  his  ex- 
cellent Matronas.  When  he  had  returned  from  seeing 
the  last  of  his  guests  out,  he  drew  a  letter  from  his 
dress-jacket  and  sat  down  opposite  to  me. 

"  This  is  an  anonymous  letter  which  I  received  this 
morning,"  said  he.  *  I  want  to  read  it  to  you  and  to 
have  your  advice." 

"  You  are  very  welcome  to  it  for  what  it  is  worth." 

"  This  is  how  the  note  runs  :  '  Sir, — I  should 
strongly  advise  you  to  keep  a  very  careful  watch  over 
the  many  valuable  things  which  are  committed  to  your 
charge.  I  do  not  think  that  the  present  system  of  a 
single  watchman  is  sufficient.  Be  upon  your  guard,  or 
an  irreparable  misfortune  may  occur." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  " 

"Yes,  that  is  all." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  it  is  at  least  obvious  that  it  was 
written  by  one  of  the  limited  number  of  people  who 
are  aware  that  you  have  only  one  watchman  at  night." 


154  THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE 

Ward  Mortimer  handed  me  the  note,  with  a  curious 
smile.  "  Have  you  an  eye  for  handwriting  ? "  said  he. 
"  Now,  look  at  this  !  "  He  put  another  letter  in  front 
of  me.  "  Look  at  the  c  in  '  congratulate !  and  the  c  in 
'  committed.'  Look  at  the  capital  I.  Look  at  the  trick 
of  putting  in  a  dash  instead  of  a  stop  I " 

"  They  are  undoubtedly  from  the  same  hand — with 
some  attempt  at  disguise  in  the  case  of  this  first  one." 

"  The  second,"  said  Ward  Mortimer,  "  is  the  letter 
of  congratulation  which  was  written  to  me  by  Professor 
Andreas  upon  my  obtaining  my  appointment." 

I  stared  at  him  in  amazement.  Then  I  turned  over 
the  letter  in  my  hand,  and  there,  sure  enough,  was 
"  Martin  Andreas  "  signed  upon  the  other  side.  There 
could  be  no  doubt,  in  the  mind  of  any  one  who  had  the 
slightest  knowledge  of  the  science  of  graphology,  that 
the  Professor  had  written  an  anonymous  letter,  warning 
his  successor  against  thieves.  It  was  inexplicable,  but 
it  was  certain. 

•  Why  should  he  do  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Precisely  what  I  should  wish  to  ask  you.  If  he 
had  any  such  misgivings,  why  could  he  not  come  and 
tell  me  direct  ? " 

"  Will  you  speak  to  him  about  it  ?  " 

"  There  again  I  am  in  doubt.  He  might  choose  to 
deny  that  he  wrote  it." 

"  At  any  rate,"  said  I,  "  this  warning  is  meant  in  a 
friendly  spirit,  and  I  should  certainly  act  upon  it.  Are 
the  present  precautions  enough  to  insure  you  against 
robbery  ? " 

"  I  should  have  thought  so.  The  public  are  only 
admitted  from  ten  till  five,  and  there  is  a  guardian  to 


THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE  155 

every  two  rooms.  He  stands  at  the  door  between  them, 
and  so  commands  them  both." 

"  But  at  night  ?  " 

"  When  the  public  are  gone,  we  at  once  put  up  the 
great  iron  shutters,  which  are  absolutely  burglar-proof. 
The  watchman  is  a  capable  fellow.  He  sits  in  the 
lodge,  but  he  walks  round  every  three  hours.  We 
keep  one  electric  light  burning  in  each  room  all 
night." 

"  It  is  difficult  to  suggest  anything  more — short  of 
keeping  your  day  watchers  all  night." 

"  We  could  not  afford  that." 

"  At  least,  I  should  communicate  with  the  police, 
and  have  a  special  constable  put  on  outside  in  Belmore 
Street,"  said  I.  "  As  to  the  letter,  if  the  writer  wishes 
to  be  anonymous,  I  think  he  has  a  right  to  remain  so. 
We  must  trust  to  the  future  to  show  some  reason  for 
the  curious  course  which  he  has  adopted." 

So  we  dismissed  the  subject,  but  all  that  night  after 
my  return  to  my  chambers  I  was  puzzling  my  brain  as 
to  what  possible  motive  Professor  Andreas  could  have 
for  writing  an  anonymous  warning  letter  to  his  suc- 
cessor—for that  the  writing  was  his  was  as  certain  to 
me  as  if  I  had  seen  him  actually  doing  it.  He  foresaw 
some  danger  to  the  collection.  Was  it  because  he  fore- 
saw it  that  he  abandoned  his  charge  of  it  ?  But  if  so, 
why  should  he  hesitate  to  warn  Mortimer  in  his  own 
name  ?  I  puzzled  and  puzzled  until  at  last  I  fell  into 
a  troubled  sleep,  which  carried  me  beyond  my  usual 
hour  of  rising. 

I  was  aroused  in  a  singular  and  effective  method, 
for  about  nine  o'clock  my  friend  Mortimer  rushed  into 


156  THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE 

my  room  with  an  expression  of  consternation  upon  his 
face.  He  was  usually  one  of  the  most  tidy  men  of  my 
acquaintance,  but  now  his  collar  was  undone  at  one 
end,  his  tie  was  flying,  and  his  hat  at  the  back  of  his 
head.     I  read  his  whole  story  in  his  frantic  eyes. 

"  The  museum  has  been  robbed ! "  I  cried,  springing 
up  in  bed. 

"  I  fear  so  !  Those  jewels !  The  jewels  of  the  urim 
and  thummim ! "  he  gasped,  for  he  was  out  of  breath 
with  running.  "  I'm  going  on  to  the  police-station. 
Come  to  the  museum  as  soon  as  you  can,  Jackson ! 
Good-bye !  "  He  rushed  distractedly  out  of  the  room, 
and  I  heard  him  clatter  down  the  stairs. 

I  was  not  long  in  following -his  directions,  but  I 
found  when  I  arrived  that  he  had  already  returned 
with  a  police  inspector,  and  another  elderly  gentleman, 
who  proved  to  be  Mr.  Purvis,  one  of  the  partners  of 
Morson  and  Company,  the  well-known  diamond  mer- 
chants. As  an  expert  in  stones  he  was  always  prepared 
to  advise  the  police.  They  were  grouped  round  the 
case  in  which  the  breastplate  of  the  Jewish  priest  had 
been  exposed.  The  plate  had  been  taken  out  and  laid 
upon  the  glass  top  of  the  case,  and  the  three  heads 
were  bent  over  it 

"It  is  obvious  that  it  has  been  tampered  with," 
said  Mortimer.  "  It  caught  my  eye  the  moment  that 
I  passed  through  the  room  this  morning.  I  examined 
it  yesterday  evening,  so  that  it  is  certain  that  this  has 
happened  during  the  night." 

It  was,  as  he  had  said,  obvious  that  some  one  had 
been  at  work  upon  it.  The  settings  of  the  uppermost 
row  of  four  stones — the  carnelian,  peridot,  emerald, 


THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE  157 

and  ruby — were  rough  and  jagged  as  if  some  one  had 
scraped  all  round  them.  The  stones  were  in  their 
places,  but  the  beautiful  goldwork  which  we  had 
admired  only  a  few  days  before  had  been  very  clumsily 
pulled  about. 

"  It  looks  to  me,"  said  the  police  inspector,  "  as  if 
some  one  had  been  trying  to  take  out  the  stones." 

"My  fear  is,"  said  Mortimer,  "that  he  not  only 
tried,  but  succeeded.  I  believe  these  four  stones  to  be 
skilful  imitations  which  have  been  put  in  the  place  of 
the  originals." 

The  same  suspicion  had  evidently  been  in  the  mind 
of  the  expert,  for  he  had  been  carefully  examining  the 
four  stones  with  the  aid  of  a  lens.  He  now  submitted 
them  to  several  tests,  and  finally  turned  cheerfully  to 
Mortimer. 

"  I  congratulate  you,  sir,"  said  he,  heartily.  "  I 
will  pledge  my  reputation  that  all  four  of  these  stones 
are  genuine,  and  of  a  most  unusual  degree  of  purity." 

The  colour  began  to  come  back  to  my  poor  friend's 
frightened  face,  and  he  drew  a  long  breath  of 
relief. 

"  Thank  God  ! "  he  cried  "  Then  what  in  the  world 
did  the  thief  want  ? " 

"Probably  he  meant  to  take  the  stones,  but  was 
interrupted." 

"  In  that  case  one  would  expect  him  to  take  them 
out  one  at  a  time,  but  the  setting  of  each  of  these  has 
been  loosened,  and  yet  the  stones  are  all  here." 

"  It  is  certainly  most  extraordinary,"  said  the  in- 
spector. "  I  never  remember  a  case  like  it.  Let  us  see 
the  watchman." 


158  THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE 

The  commissionaire  was  called — a  soldierly,  honest- 
faced  man,  who  seemed  as  concerned  as  Ward  Mortime* 
at  the  incident. 

"  No,  sir,  I  never  heard  a  sound,"  he  answered,  in 
reply  to  the  questions  of  the  inspector.  "  I  made  my 
rounds  four  times,  as  usual,  but  I  saw  nothing  suspi- 
cious. I've  been  in  my  position  ten  years,  but  nothing 
of  the  kind  has  ever  occurred  before." 

"  No  thief  could  have  come  through  the  windows  ? " 

"  Impossible,  sir." 

"  Or  passed  you  at  the  door  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  I  never  left  my  post  except  when  I 
walked  my  rounds." 

"  What  other  openings  are  there  in  the  museum  ?  * 

"There  is  the  door  into  Mr.  Ward  Mortimer's 
private  rooms." 

"That  is  locked  at  night,"  my  friend  explained, 
"and  in  order  to  reach  it  any  one  from  the  street 
would  have  to  open  the  outside  door  as  well." 

"  Your  servants  ? " 

"  Their  quarters  are  entirely  separate." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  inspector,  "  this  is  certainly 
very  obscure.  However,  there  has  been  no  harm  done, 
according  to  Mr.  Purvis." 

"  I  will  swear  that  those  stones  are  genuine." 

"  So  that  the  case  appears  to  be  merely  one  of 
malicious  damage.  But  none  the  less,  I  should  be 
very  glad  to  go  carefully  round  the  premises,  and 
to  see  if  we  can  find  any  trace  to  show  us  who  your 
visitor  may  have  been." 

His  investigation,  which  lasted  all  the  morning 
was  careful  and  intelligent,  but  it  led  in  the  end 


THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE  159 

to  nothing.  He  pointed  out  to  us  that  there  were 
two  possible  entrances  to  the  museum  which  we 
had  not  considered.  The  one  was  from  the  cellars 
by  a  trap-door  opening  in  the  passage.  The  other 
through  a  skylight  from  the  lumber-room,  overlooking 
that  very  chamber  to  which  the  intruder  had  pene- 
trated. As  neither  the  cellar  nor  the  lumber-room 
could  be  entered  unless  the  thief  was  already  within 
the  locked  doors,  the  matter  was  not  of  any  practical 
importance,  and  the  dust  of  cellar  and  attic  assured 
us  that  no  one  had  used  either  one  or  the  other. 
Finally,  we  ended  as  we  began,  without  the  slightest 
clue  as  to  how,  why,  or  by  whom  the  setting  of  these 
four  jewels  had  been  tampered  with. 

There  remained  one  course  for  Mortimer  to  take, 
and  he  took  it.  Leaving  the  police  to  continue  their 
fruitless  researches,  he  asked  me  to  accompany  him 
that  afternoon  in  a  visit  to  Professor  Andreas.  He 
took  with  him  the  two  letters,  and  it  was  his  inten- 
tion to  openly  tax  his  predecessor  with  having 
written  the  anonymous  warning,  and  to  ask  him 
to  explain  the  fact  that  he  should  have  anticipated 
so  exactly  that  which  had  actually  occurred.  The 
Professor  was  living  in  a  small  villa  in  Upper 
Norwood,  but  we  were  informed  by  the  servant 
that  he  was  away  from  home.  Seeing  our  disappoint- 
ment, she  asked  us  if  we  should  like  to  see  Miss 
Andreas,  and  showed  us  into  the  modest  drawing- 
room. 

I  have  mentioned  incidentally  that  the  Professor's 
daughter  was  a  very  beautiful  girl.  She  was  a 
blonde,  tall  and  graceful,  with  a  skin  of  that  delicate 


160  THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE 

tint  which  the  French  call  "mat,"  the  colour  of 
old  ivory  or  of  the  lighter  petals  of  the  sulphur 
rose.  I  was  shocked,  however,  as  she  entered  the 
room  to  see  how  much  she  had  changed  in  the  last 
fortnight.  Her  young  face  was  haggard  and  her  bright 
eyes  heavy  with  trouble. 

"Father  has  gone  to  Scotland,"  she  said.  "He 
seems  to  be  tired,  and  has  had  a  good  deal  to  worry 
him.     He  only  left  us  yesterday." 

"You  look  a  little  tired  yourself,  Miss  Andreas," 
said  my  friend. 

"  I  have  been  so  anxious  about  father." 

"  Can  you  give  me  his  Scotch  address  ? " 

"Yes,  he  is  with  his  brother,  the  Rev.  David 
Andreas,  1,  Arran  Villas,  Ardrossan." 

Ward  Mortimer  made  a  note  of  the  address,  and 
we  left  without  saying  anything  as  to  the  object 
of  our  visit.  We  found  ourselves  in  Belmore  Street 
in  the  evening  in  exactly  the  same  position  in  which 
we  had  been  in  the  morning.  Our  only  clue  was 
the  Professor's  letter,  and  my  friend  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  start  for  Ardrossan  next  day,  and  to 
get  to  the  bottom  of  the  anonymous  letter,  when  a 
new  development  came  to  alter  our  plans. 

Very  early  on  the  following  morning  I  was 
aroused  from  my  sleep  by  a  tap  upon  my  bedroom 
door.  It  was  a  messenger  with  a  note  from  Mor- 
timer. 

"  Do  come  round,"  it  said ;  "  the  matter  is  becoming 
more  and  more  extraordinary." 

When  I  obeyed  his  summons  I  found  him  pacing 
excitedly  up  and  down  the  central  room,  while  the 


THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE  161 

old  soldier  who  guarded  the  premises  stood  with 
military  stiffness  in  a  corner. 

"  My  dear  Jackson,"  he  cried,  "  I  am  so  delighted 
that  you  have  come,  for  this  is  a  most  inexplicable 
business.0 

"  What  has  happened,  then  ? " 

He  waved  his  hand  towards  the  case  which  con- 
tained the  breastplate. 

"  Look  at  it,"  said  he. 

I  did  so,  and  could  not  restrain  a  cry  of  surprise. 
The  setting  of  the  middle  row  of  precious  stones 
had  been  profaned  in  the  same  manner  as  the  upper 
ones.  Of  the  twelve  jewels,  eight  had  been  now 
tampered  with  in  this  singular  fashion.  The  setting 
of  the  lower  four  was  neat  and  smooth.  The  others 
jagged  and  irregular. 

"  Have  the  stones  been  altered  ? "  I  asked. 

"No,  I  am  certain  that  these  upper  four  are  the 
same  which  the  expert  pronounced  to  be  genuine, 
for  I  observed  yesterday  that  little  discoloration  on 
the  edge  of  the  emerald.  Since  they  have  not  ex- 
tracted the  upper  stones,  there  is  no  reason  to  think 
the  lower  have  been  transposed.  You  say  that  you 
heard  nothing,  Simpson  ? " 

"No,  sir,"  the  commissionaire  answered.  "But 
when  I  made  my  round  after  daylight  I  had  a  special 
look  at  these  stones,  and  I  saw  at  once  that  some 
one  had  been  meddling  with  them.  Then  I  called 
you,  sir,  and  told  you.  I  was  backwards  and  forwards 
all  the  night,  and  I  never  saw  a  soul  or  heard  a 
sound." 

"  Come  up  and  have  some  breakfast  with  me," 

M 


162  THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE 

said  Mortimer,  and  he  took  me  into  his  own  chambers. 
— "  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  this,  Jackson  ? " 
he  asked. 

"It  is  the  most  objectless,  futile,  idiotic  business 
that  ever  I  heard  of.  It  can  only  be  the  work  of  a 
monomaniac." 

"  Can  you  put  forward  any  theory  f  ? 

A  curious  idea  came  into  my  head.  "  This  object 
is  a  Jewish  relic  of  great  antiquity  and  sanctity,"  said 
I.  "  How  about  the  anti-Semitic  movement  ?  Could 
one  conceive  that  a  fanatic  of  that  way  of  thinking 
might  desecrate " 

"  No,  no,  no ! "  cried  Mortimer.  "  That  will  never 
do !  Such  a  man  might  push  his  lunacy  to  the  length 
of  destroying  a  Jewish  relic,  but  why  on  earth  should 
he  nibble  round  every  stone  so  carefully  that  he  can 
only  do  four  stones  in  a  night?  We  must  have  a 
better  solution  than  that,  and  we  must  find  it  for  our- 
selves, for  I  do  not  think  that  our  inspector  is  likely 
to  help  us.  First  of  all,  what  do  you  think  of  Simpson, 
the  porter  ? " 

"  Have  you  any  reason  to  suspect  him  ? " 

"  Only  that  he  is  the  one  person  on  the  premises." 

"But  why  should  he  indulge  in  such  wanton 
destruction  ?  Nothing  has  been  taken  away.  He  has 
no  motive." 

"Mania?" 

"  No,  I  will  swear  to  his  sanity." 

"  Have  you  any  other  theory  ? " 

"Well,  yourself,  for  example.  You  are  not  a 
somnambulist,  by  any  chance  ?  " 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,  I  assure  you." 


THE   JEW'S  BREASTPLATE  163 

"Then  I  give  it  up." 

"But;  I  don't — and  I  have  a  plan  by  which  we 
will  make  it  all  clear.' ' 

"  To  visit  Professor  Andreas  ?  " 

"No,  we  shall  find  our  solution  nearer  than 
Scotland.  I  will  tell  you  what  we  shall  do.  You 
know  that  skylight  which  overlooks  the  central  hall  ? 
We  will  leave  the  electric  lights  in  the  hall,  and  we 
will  keep  watch  in  the  lumber-roorn,  you  and  I,  and 
solve  the  mystery  for  ourselves.  If  our  mysterious 
visitor  is  doing  four  stones  at  a  time,  he  has  four  still 
to  do,  and  there  is  every  reason  to  think  that  he  will 
return  to-night  and  complete  the  job." 

"  Excellent !  "  I  cried. 

"We  will  keep  our  own  secret,  and  say  nothing 
either  to  the  police  or  to  Simpson.  Will  you  join 
me?" 

"  With  the  utmost  pleasure,"  said  I ;  and  so  it  was 
agreed. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  that  night  when  I  returned  to 
the  Belmoro  Street  Museum.  Mortimer  was,  as  I 
could  see,  in  a  state  of  suppressed  nervous  excitement, 
but  it  was  still  too  early  to  begin  our  vigil,  so  we 
remained  for  an  hour  or  so  in  his  chambers,  discussing 
all  the  possibilities  of  the  singular  business  which  we 
had  met  to  solve.  At  last  the  roaring  stream  of 
hansom  cabs  and  the  rush  of  hurrying  feet  became 
lower  and  more  intermittent  as  the  pleasure-seekers 
passed  on  their  way  to  their  stations  or  their  homes. 
It  was  nearly  twelve  when  Mortimer  led  the  way  to 
the  lumber-room  which  overlooked  the  central  hall  of 
the  museum. 


164  THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE 

He  had  visited  it  during  the  day,  and  had  spread 
some  sacking  so  that  we  could  lie  at  our  ease,  and  look 
straight  down  into  the  museum.  The  skylight  was  of 
unfrosted  glass,  but  was  so  covered  with  dust  that  it 
would  be  impossible  for  any  one  looking  up  from  below 
to  detect  that  he  was  overlooked.  We  cleared  a  small 
piece  at  each  corner,  which  gave  us  a  complete  view 
of  the  room  beneath  us.  In  the  cold  white  light  of 
the  electric  lamps  everything  stood  out  hard  and  clear, 
and  I  could  see  the  smallest  detail  of  the  contents  of 
the  various  cases. 

Such  a  vigil  is  an  excellent  lesson,  since  one  has 
no  choice  but  to  look  hard  at  those  objects  which  we 
usually  pass  with  such  half-hearted  interest.  Through 
my  little  peep-hole  I  employed  the  hours  in  studying 
every  specimen,  from  the  huge  mummy-case  which 
leaned  against  the  wall  to  those  very  jewels  which 
had  brought  us  there,  gleaming  and  sparkling  in  their 
glass  case  immediately  beneath  us.  There  was  much 
precious  gold-work  and  many  valuable  stones  scattered 
through  the  numerous  cases,  but  those  wonderful 
twelve  which  made  up  the  urim  and  thummim  glowed 
and  burned  with  a  radiance  which  far  eclipsed  the 
others.  I  studied  in  turn  the  tomb-pictures  of  Sicara, 
the  friezes  from  Karnak,  the  statues  of  Memphis,  and 
the  inscriptions  of  Thebes,  but  my  eyes  would  always 
come  back  to  that  wonderful  Jewish  relic,  and  my 
mind  to  the  singular  mystery  which  surrounded  it.  I 
was  lost  in  the  thought  of  it  when  my  companion 
suddenly  drew  his  breath  sharply  in,  and  seized  my 
arm  in  a  convulsive  grip.  At  the  same  instant  I  saw 
what  it  was  which  had  excited  him. 


THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE  165 

I  have  said  that  against  the  wall — on  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  doorway  (the  right-hand  side  as  we 
looked  at  it,  but  the  left  as  one  entered) — there  stood 
a  large  mummy-case.  To  our  unutterable  amazement 
it  was  slowly  opening.  Gradually,  gradually  the  lid 
was  swinging  back,  and  the  black  slit  which  marked 
the  opening  was  becoming  wider  and  wider.  So 
gently  and  carefully  was  it  done  that  the  movement} 
was  almost  imperceptible.  Then,  as  we  breathlessly 
watched  it,  a  white  thin  hand  appeared  at  the  opening, 
pushing  back  the  painted  lid,  then  another  hand,  and 
finally  a  face — a  face  which  was  familiar  to  us  both, 
that  of  Professor  Andreas.  Stealthily  he  slunk  out 
of  the  mummy- case,  like  a  fox  stealing  from  its 
burrow,  his  head  turning  incessantly  to  left  and  to 
right,  stepping,  then  pausing,  then  stepping  again,  the 
very  image  of  craft  and  of  caution.  Once  some  sound 
in  the  street  struck  him  motionless,  and  he  stood 
listening,  with  his  ear  turned,  ready  to  dart  back  to 
the  shelter  behind  him.  Then  he  crept  onwards  again 
upon  tiptoe,  very,  very  softly  and  slowly,  until  he  had 
reached  the  case  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  There  he 
took  a  bunch  of  keys  from  his  pocket,  unlocked  the 
case,  took  out  the  Jewish  breastplate,  and,  laying  it 
upon  the  glass  in  front  of  him,  began  to  work  upon  it 
with  some  sort  of  small,  glistening  tool.  He  was  so 
directly  underneath  us  that  his  bent  head  covered  his 
work,  but  we  could  guess  from  the  movement  of  his 
hand  that  he  was  engaged  in  finishing  the  strange 
disfigurement  which  he  had  begun. 

I  could  realize  from  the  heavy  breathing  of  my 
companion,  and  the  twitchings  of  the  hand  which  still 


166  THE  JEW'S  BKEASTPLATE 

clutched  my  wrist,  the  furious  indignation  which  filled 
his  heart  as  he  saw  this  vandalism  in  the  quarter 
of  all  others  where  he  could  least  have  expected  it. 
He,  the  very  man  who  a  fortnight  before  had  reverently 
bent  over  this  unique  relic,  and  who  had  impressed  its 
antiquity  and  its  sanctity  upon  us,  was  now  engaged 
in  this  outrageous  profanation.  It  was  impossible, 
unthinkable — and  yet  there,  in  the  white  glare  of  the 
electric  light  beneath  us,  was  that  dark  figure  with  the 
bent,  grey  head,  and  the  twitching  elbow.  What 
inhuman  hypocrisy,  what  hateful  depth  of  malice 
against  his  successor  must  underlie  these  sinister 
nocturnal  labours.  It  was  painful  to  think  of  and 
dreadful  to  watch.  Even  I,  who  had  none  of  the  acute 
feelings  of  a  virtuoso,  could  not  bear  to  look  on  and 
see  this  deliberate  mutilation  of  so  ancient  a  relic.  It 
was  a  relief  to  me  when  my  companion  tugged  at  my 
sleeve  as  a  signal  that  I  was  to  follow  him  as  he  softly 
crept  out  of  the  room.  It  was  not  until  we  were 
within  his  own  quarters  that  he  opened  his  lips,  and 
then  I  saw  by  his  agitated  face  how  deep  was  his 
consternation. 

"  The  abominable  Goth !  "  he  cried.  *  Could  you 
have  believed  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  amazing." 

"He  is  a  villain  or  a  lunatic— one  or  the  other. 
We  shall  very  soon  see  which.  Come  with  me, 
Jackson,  and  we  shall  get  to  tho  bottom  of  this  black 
business." 

A  door  opened  out  of  the  passage  which  was  the 
private  entrance  from  his  rooms  into  the  museum. 
This  he  opened  softly  with  his  key,  having  first  kicked 


THE  JEWS  BREASTPLATE  167 

off  his  shoes,  an  example  which  I  followed.  We  crept 
together  through  room  after  room,  until  the  large  hall 
lay  before  us,  with  that  dark  figure  still  stooping  and 
working  at  the  central  case.  With  an  advance  as 
cautious  as  his  own  we  closed  in  upon  him,  but  softly 
as  we  went  we  could  not  take  him  entirely  unawares. 
We  were  still  a  dozen  yards  from  him  when  he  looked 
round  with  a  start,  and  uttering  a  husky  cry  of  terror, 
ran  frantically  down  the  museum. 

"Simpson!  Simpson!"  roared  Mortimer,  and  far 
away  down  the  vista  of  electric  lighted  doors  we  saw 
the  stiff  figure  of  the  old  soldier  suddenly  appear. 
Professor  Andreas  saw  him  also,  and  stopped  running, 
with  a  gesture  of  despair.  At  the  same  instant  we 
each  laid  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Yes,  yes,  gentlemen,"  he  panted,  "I  will  come 
with  you.  To  your  room,  Mr.  Ward  Mortimer,  if 
you  please  I  I  feel  that  I  owe  you  an  explana- 
tion." 

My  companion's  indignation  was  so  great  that  I 
could  see  that  he  dared  not  trust  himself  to  reply. 
We  walked  on  each  side  of  the  old  Professor,  the 
astonished  commissionaire  bringing  up  the  rear.  When 
we  reached  the  violated  case,  Mortimer  stopped  and 
examined  the  breastplate.  Already  one  of  the  stones 
of  the  lower  row  had  had  its  setting  turned  back  in 
the  same  manner  as  the  others.  My  friend  held  it  up 
and  glanced  furiously  at  his  prisoner. 

f  How  could  you  ! "  he  cried.    M  How  could  you ! n 

"  It  is  horrible — horrible  !  "  said  the  Professor. 
"  I  don't  wonder  at  your  feelings.  Take  me  to  your 
room." 


168  THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE 

"  But  this  shall  not  be  left  exposed ! "  cried  Mor- 
timer. He  picked  the  breastplate  up  and  carried  it 
tenderly  in  his  hand,  while  I  walked  beside  the 
Professor,  like  a  policeman  with  a  malefactor.  We 
passed  into  Mortimer's  chambers,  leaving  the  amazed 
old  soldier  to  understand  matters  as  best  he  could. 
The  Professor  sat  down  in  Mortimer's  arm-chair, 
and  turned  so  ghastly  a  colour  that  for  the  instant, 
all  our  resentment  was  changed  to  concern.  A  stiff 
glass  of  brandy  brought  the  life  back  to  him  once 
more. 

"There,  I  am  better  now!"  said  he.  "These 
last  few  days  have  been  too  much  for  me.  I  am 
convinced  that  I  could  not  stand  it  any  longer.  It  is 
a  nightmare — a  horrible  nightmare — that  I  should  be 
arrested  as  a  burglar  in  what  has  been  for  so  long  my 
own  museum.  And  yet  I  cannot  blame  you.  You 
could  not  have  done  otherwise.  My  hope  always  was 
that  I  should  get  it  all  over  before  I  was  detected. 
This  would  have  been  my  last  night's  work." 

*  How  did  you  get  in  ? "  asked  Mortimer. 

"  By  taking  a  very  great  liberty  with  your  private 
door.  But  the  object  justified  it.  The  object  justified 
everything.  You  will  not  be  angry  when  you  know 
everything — at  least,  you  will  not  be  angry  with  me. 
I  had  a  key  to  your  side  door  and  also  to  the  museum 
door.  I  did  not  give  them  up  when  I  left.  And  so 
you  see  it  was  not  difficult  for  me  to  let  myself  into 
the  museum.  I  used  to  come  in  early  before  the 
crowd  had  cleared  from  the  street.  Then  I  hid  myself 
in  the  mummy-case,  and  took  refuge  there  whenever 
Simpson    came   round.      I  could   always    hear  him 


THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE  169 

coming.  I  used  to  leave  in  the  same  way  as  I 
came." 

"  You  ran  a  risk." 

"I  had  to." 

"But  why?  What  on  earth  was  your  object 
— you  to  do  a  thing  like  that  I "  Mortimer  pointed 
reproachfully  at  the  plate  which  lay  before  him  on  the 
table. 

"I  could  devise  no  other  means.  I  thought  and 
thought,  but  there  was  no  alternative  except  a  hideous 
public  scandal,  and  a  private  sorrow  which  would  have 
clouded  our  lives.  I  acted  for  the  best,  incredible  as  it 
may  seem  to  you,  and  I  only  ask  your  attention  to 
enable  me  to  prove  it." 

"  I  will  hear  what  you  have  to  say  before  I  take 
any  further  steps,"  said  Mortimer,  grimly. 

"  I  am  determined  to  hold  back  nothing,  and  to 
take  you  both  completely  into  my  confidence.  I  will 
leave  it  to  your  own  generosity  how  far  you  will  use 
the  facts  with  which  I  supply  you." 

"  We  have  the  essential  facts  already." 

"And  yet  you  understand  nothing.  Let  me  go 
back  to  what  passed  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  I  will  make 
it  all  clear  to  you.  Believe  mo  that  what  I  say  is  the 
absolute  and  exact  truth. 

"You  have  met  the  person  who  calls  himself 
Captain  Wilson.  I  say  '  calls  himself '  because  I  have 
reason  now  to  believe  that  it  is  not  his  correct  name. 
It  would  take  me  too  long  if  I  were  to  describe  all  the 
means  by  which  he  obtained  an  introduction  to  me  and 
ingratiated  himself  into  my  friendship  and  the  affection 
of  my  daughter.      He  brought  letters  from  foreign 


170  THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE 

colleagues  which  compelled  me  to  show  him  some 
attention.  And  then,  by  his  own  attainments,  which 
are  considerable,  he  succeeded  in  making  himself  a 
very  welcome  visitor  at  my  rooms.  When  I  learned 
that  my  daughter's  affections  had  been  gained  by  him, 
I  may  have  thought  it  premature,  but  I  certainly  was 
not  surprised,  for  he  had  a  charm  of  manner  and  of 
conversation  which  would  have  made  him  conspicuous 
in  any  society. 

"  He  was  much  interested  in  Oriental  antiquities, 
and  his  knowledge  of  the  subject  justified  his  interest. 
Often  when  he  spent  the  evening  with  us  he  would 
ask  permission  to  go  down  into  the  museum  and  have 
an  opportunity  of  privately  inspecting  the  various 
specimens.  You  can  imagine  that  I,  as  an  enthusiast, 
was  in  sympathy  with  such  a  request,  and  that  I  felt 
no  surprise  at  the  constancy  of  his  visits.  After  his 
actual  engagement  to  Elise,  there  was  hardly  an 
evening  which  he  did  not  pass  with  us,  and  an  hour  or 
two  were  generally  devoted  to  the  museum.  He  had 
the  free  run  of  the  place,  and  when  I  have  been  away 
for  the  evening  I  had  no  objection  to  his  doing  what- 
ever he  wished  here.  This  state  of  things  was  only 
terminated  by  the  fact  of  my  resignation  of  my  official 
duties  and  my  retirement  to  Norwood,  where  I  hoped 
to  have  the  leisure  to  write  a  considerable  work  which 
I  had  planned. 

"  It  was  immediately  after  this — within  a  week  or 
So— that  I  first  realized  the  true  nature  and  character 
of  the  man  whom  I  had  so  imprudently  introduced  into 
my  family.  The  discovery  came  to  me  through  letters 
from  my  friends  abroad,  which  showed  me  that  his 


THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE  171 

introductions  to  me  had  been  forgeries.  Aghast  at  the 
revelation,  I  asked  myself  what  motive  this  man  could 
originally  have  had  in  practising  this  elaborate  decep- 
tion upon  me.  I  was  too  poor  a  man  for  any  fortune- 
hunter  to  have  marked  me  down.  Why,  then,  had  he 
come  ?  I  remembered  that  some  of  the  most  precious 
gems  in  Europe  had  been  under  my  charge,  and  I 
remembered  also  the  ingenious  excuses  by  which  this 
man  had  made  himself  familiar  with  the  cases  in  which 
they  were  kept.  He  was  a  rascal  who  was  planning 
some  gigantic  robbery.  How  could  I,  without  striking 
my  own  daughter,  who  was  infatuated  about  him, 
prevent  him  from  carrying  out  any  plan  which  he 
might  have  formed?  My  device  was  a  clumsy  one, 
and  yet  I  could  think  of  nothing  more  effective.  If  I 
had  written  a  letter  under  my  own  name,  you  would 
naturally  have  turned  to  me  for  details  which  I  did 
not  wish  to  give.  I  resorted  to  an  anonymous  letter, 
begging  you  to  be  upon  your  guard. 

"I  may  tell  you  that  my  change  from  Belmore 
Street  to  Norwood  had  not  affected  the  visits  of  this 
man,  who  had,  I  believe,  a  real  and  overpowering 
affection  for  my  daughter.  As  to  her,  I  could  not  have 
believed  that  any  woman  could  be  so  completely  under 
the  influence  of  a  man  as  she  was.  His  stronger 
nature  seemed  to  entirely  dominate  her.  I  had  not 
realized  how  far  this  was  the  case,  or  the  extent  of  the 
confidence  which  existed  between  them,  until  that  very 
evening  when  his  true  character  for  the  first  time  was 
made  clear  to  me.  I  had  given  orders  that  when  he 
called  he  should  be  shown  into  my  study  instead  of  to 
the  drawing-room.     There  I  told  him  bluntly  that  I 


172  THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE 

knew  all  about  him,  that  I  had  taken  steps  to  defeat 
his  designs,  and  that  neither  I  nor  my  daughter  desired 
ever  to  see  him  again.  I  added  that  I  thanked  God 
that  I  had  found  him  out  before  he  had  time  to  harm 
those  precious  objects  which  it  had  been  the  work  of 
my  life-time  to  protect. 

"  He  was  certainly  a  man  of  iron  nerve.  He  took 
my  remarks  without  a  sign  either  of  surprise  or  of 
defiance,  but  listened  gravely  and  attentively  until  I 
had  finished.  Then  he  walked  across  the  room  without 
a  word  and  struck  the  bell. 

" '  Ask  Miss  Andreas  to  be  so  kind  as  to  step  thi3 
way/  said  he  to  the  servant. 

"My  daughter  entered,  and  the  man  olosed  the 
door  behind  her.    Then  he  took  her  hand  in  his. 

"'Elise/  said  he,  'your  father  has  just  discovered 
that  I  am  a  villain.  He  knows  now  what  you  knew 
before.' 

"  She  stood  in  silence,  listening. 

" '  He  says  that  we  are  to  part  for  ever/  said  he. 

"  She  did  not  withdraw  her  hand. 

" ■  Will  you  be  true  to  me,  or  will  you  remove  the 
last  good  influenoe  which  is  ever  likely  to  come  into 
my  life  ? ' 

"'John/  she  cried,  passionately,  'I  will  never 
abandon  you !  Never,  never,  not  if  the  whole  world 
were  against  you/ 

"  In  vain  I  argued  and  pleaded  with  her.  It  was 
absolutely  useless.  Her  whole  life  was  bound  up  in 
this  man  before  me.  My  daughter,  gentlemen,  is  all 
that  I  have  left  to  love,  and  it  filled  me  with  agony 
when  I  saw  how  powerless  I  was  to  save  her  from  her 


THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE  173 

ruin.  My  helplessness  seemed  to  touch  this  man  who 
was  the  cause  of  my  trouble. 

"'It  may  not  be  as  bad  as  you  think,  sir/  said 
he,  in  his  quiet,  inflexible  way.  '  I  love  Elise  with  a 
love  which  is  strong  enough  to  rescue  even  one  who 
has  such  a  record  as  I  have.  It  was  but  yesterday 
that  I  promised  her  that  never  again  in  my  whole 
life  would  I  do  a  thing  of  which  she  should  be 
ashamed.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  it,  and  never  yet 
did  I  make  up  my  mind  to  a  thing  which  I  did  not  do.' 

"He  spoke  with  an  air  which  carried  conviction 
with  it.  As  he  concluded  he  put  his  hand  into  his 
pocket  and  he  drew  out  a  small  cardboard  box. 

"'I  am  about  to  give  you  a  proof  of  my  deter- 
mination,' said  he.  'This,  Elise,  shall  be  the  first- 
fruits  of  your  redeeming  influence  over  me.  You  are 
right,  sir,  in  thinking  that  I  had  designs  upon  the 
jewels  in  your  possession.  Such  ventures  have  had 
a  charm  for  me,  which  depended  as  much  upon  the 
risk  run  as  upon  the  value  of  the  prize.  Those  famous 
and  antique  stones  of  the  Jewish  priest  were  a  challenge 
to  my  daring  and  my  ingenuity.  I  determined  to  get 
them.' 

" '  I  guessed  as  much.' 

" '  There  was  only  one  thing  that  you  did  not 
guess.' 

"'And  what  is  that?" 

" '  That  I  got  them.     They  are  in  this  box/ 

He  opened  the  box,  and  tilted  out  the  contents 
upon  the  corner  of  my  desk.  My  hair  rose  and  my  flesh 
grew  cold  as  I  looked.  There  were  twelve  magnificent 
square  stones  engraved  with  mystical  characters.    There 


174  THE  JEW'S  BREASTPLATE 

could  be  no  doubt  that  they  were  the  jewels  of  the 
urirn  and  thummim. 

" '  Good  God !  •  I  cried.  *  How  have  you  escaped 
discovery  ? ' 

"  By  the  substitution  of  twelve  others,  made  espe- 
cially to  my  order,  in  which  the  originals  are  so 
carefully  imitated  that  I  defy  the  eye  to  detect  the 
difference. ' 

" '  Then  the  present  stones  are  false  ? '  I  cried. 

" '  They  have  been  for  some  weeks/ 

"  We  all  stood  in  silence,  my  daughter  white  with 
emotion,  but  still  holding  this  man  by  the  hand. 

" '  You  see  what  I  am  capable  of,  Elise/  said  he. 

"'I  see  that  you  are  capable  of  repentance  and 
restitution/  she  answered. 

"'Yes,  thanks  to  your  influence!  I  leave  the 
stones  in  your  hands,  sir.  Do  what  you  like  about 
it.  But  remember  that  whatever  you  do  against  me, 
is  done  against  the  future  husband  of  your  only 
daughter.  You  will  hear  from  me  soon  again,  Elise. 
It  is  the  last  time  that  I  will  ever  cause  pain  to  your 
tender  heart/  and  with  these  words  he  left  both  the 
room  and  the  house. 

"My  position  was  a  dreadful  one.  Here  I  was 
with  these  precious  relics  in  my  possession,  and  how 
could  I  return  them  without  a  scandal  and  an  ex- 
posure? I  knew  the  depth  of  my  daughters  nature 
too  well  to  suppose  that  I  would  ever  be  able  to 
detach  her  from  this  man  now  that  she  had  entirely 
given  him  her  heart.  I  was  not  even  sure  how  far  it 
was  right  to  detach  her  if  she  had  such  an  ameliorating 
influence  over  him.    How  could  I  expose  him  without 


THE  JEW'S  BKEASTPLATE  175 

injuring  her — and  how  far  was  I  justified  in  exposing 
him  when  he  had  voluntarily  put  himself  into  my 
power  ?  I  thought  and  thought,  until  at  last  I  formed 
a  resolution  which  may  seem  to  you  to  be  a  foolish 
one,  and  yet,  if  I  had  to  do  it  again,  I  believe  it  would 
be  the  best  course  open  to  me. 

"  My  idea  was  to  return  the  stones  without  any  one 
being  the  wiser.  With  my  keys  I  could  get  into  the 
museum  at  any  time,  and  I  was  confident  that  I  could 
avoid  Simpson,  whose  hours  and  methods  were  familiar 
to  me.  I  determined  to  take  no  one  into  my  con- 
fidence— not  even  my  daughter — whom  I  told  that  I 
was  about  to  visit  my  brother  in  Scotland.  I  wanted 
a  free  hand  for  a  few  nights,  without  inquiry  as  to  my 
comings  and  goings.  To  this  end  I  took  a  room  in 
Harding  Street  that  very  night,  with  an  intimation 
that  I  was  a  Pressman,  and  that  I  should  keep  very 
late  hours. 

"  That  night  I  made  my  way  into  the  museum,  and 
I  replaced  four  of  the  stones.  It  was  hard  work,  and 
took  me  all  night.  When  Simpson  came  round  I 
always  heard  his  footsteps,  and  concealed  myself  in 
the  mummy-case.  I  had  some  knowledge  of  gold- 
work,  but  was  far  less  skilful  than  the  thief  had  been. 
He  had  replaced  the  setting  so  exactly  that  I  defy 
any  one  to  see  the  difference.  My  work  was  rude  and 
clumsy.  However,  I  hoped  that  the  plate  might  not 
be  carefully  examined,  or  the  roughness  of  the  setting 
observed,  until  my  task  was  done.  Next  night  I 
replaced  four  more  stones.  And  to-night  I  should 
have  finished  my  task  had  it  not  been  for  the  unfor- 
tunate circumstance  which  has  caused  me  to  reveal 


176  THE  JEW'S  BKEASTPLATE 

so  much  which  I  should  have  wished  to  keep  con- 
cealed. I  appeal  to  you,  gentlemen,  to  your  sense  of 
honour  and  of  compassion,  whether  what  I  have  told 
you  should  go  any  farther  or  not.  My  own  happiness, 
my  daughter's  future,  the  hopes  of  this  man's  regene- 
ration, all  depend  upon  your  decision." 

"  Which  is,"  said  my  friend,  "  that  all  is  well  that 
ends  well,  and  that  the  whole  matter  ends  here  and  at 
once.  To-morrow  the  loose  settings  shall  be  tightened 
by  an  expert  goldsmith,  and  so  passes  the  greatest 
danger  to  which,  since  the  destruction  of  the  Temple, 
the  urim  and  thummim  have  been  exposed.  Here 
is  my  hand,  Professor  Andreas,  and  I  can  only  hope 
that  under  such  difficult  circumstances  I  should  have 
carried  myself  as  unselfishly  and  as  well." 

Just  one  footnote  to  this  narrative.  Within  a 
month  Elise  Andreas  was  married  to  a  man  whose 
name,  had  I  the  indiscretion  to  mention  it,  would 
appeal  to  my  readers  as  one  who  is  now  widely  and 
deservedly  honoured.  But  if  the  truth  were  known, 
that  honour  is  due  not  to  him  but  to  the  gentle  girl 
who  plucked  him  back  when  he  had  gone  so  far  down 
that  dark  road  along  which  few  return. 


THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

The  confession  of  Herbert  de  Lernac,  now  lying  under 
sentence  of  death  at  Marseilles,  has  thrown  a  light 
upon  one  of  the  most  inexplicable  crimes  of  the  century 
— an  incident  which  is,  I  believe,  absolutely  unprece- 
dented in  the  criminal  annals  of  any  country.  Although 
there  is  a  reluctance  to  discuss  the  matter  in  official 
circles,  and  little  information  has  been  given  to  the 
Press,  there  are  still  indications  that  the  statement  of 
this  arch-criminal  is  corroborated  by  the  facts,  and  that 
we  have  at  last  found  a  solution  for  a  most  astounding 
business.  As  the  matter  is  eight  years  old,  and  as  its 
importance  was  somewhat  obscured  by  a  political  crisis 
which  was  engaging  the  public  attention  at  the  time, 
it  may  be  as  well  to  state  the  facts  as  far  as  we  have  been 
able  to  ascertain  them.  They  are  collated  from  the 
Liverpool  papers  of  that  date,  from  the  proceedings  at 
the  inquest  upon  John  Slater,  the  engine-driver,  and 
from  the  records  of  the  London  and  West  Coast  Kail- 
way  Company,  which  have  been  courteously  put  at  my 
disposal.     Briefly,  they  are  as  follows. 

On  the  -3rd  of  June,  1890,  a  gentleman,  who  gave 
his  name  as  Monsieur  Louis  Caratal,  desired  an  inter- 
view with  Mr.  James  Bland,  the  superintendent  of  the 
London  and  West  Coast  Central  Station  in  Liverpool. 

177  N 


178  THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

He  was  a  small  man,  middle-aged  and  dark,  with  a  stoop 
which  was  so  marked  that  it  suggested  some  deformity 
of  the  spine.  He  was  accompanied  by  a  friend,  a  man 
of  imposing  physique,  whose  deferential  manner  and 
constant  attention  showed  that  his  position  was  one 
of  dependence.  This  friend  or  companion,  whose 
name  did  not  transpire,  was  certainly  a  foreigner,  and 
probably,  from  his  swarthy  complexion,  either  a  Spaniard 
or  a  South  American.  One  peculiarity  was  observed  in 
him.  He  carried  in  his  left  hand  a  small  black  leather 
dispatch-box,  and  it  was  noticed  by  a  sharp-eyed  clerk 
in  the  Central  office  that  this  box  was  fastened  to  his 
wrist  by  a  strap.  No  importance  was  attached  to  the 
fact  at  the  time,  but  subsequent  events  endowed  it 
with  some  significance.  Monsieur  Caratal  was  shown 
up  to  Mr.  Bland's  office,  while  his  companion  remained 
outside. 

Monsieur  Caratal's  business  was  quickly  dispatched. 
He  had  arrived  that  afternoon  from  Central  America. 
Affairs  of  the  utmost  importance  demanded  that  ho 
should  be  in  Paris  without  the  loss  of  an  unnecessary 
hour.  He  had  missed  the  London  express.  A  special 
must  be  provided.  Money  was  of  no  importance.  Time 
was  everything.  If  the  company  would  speed  him  on 
his  way,  they  might  make  their  own  terms. 

Mr.  Bland  struck  the  electric  bell,  summoned  Mr. 
Potter  Hood,  the  traffic  manager,  and  had  the  matter 
arranged  in  five  minutes.  The  train  would  start  in 
three-quarters  of  an  hour.  It  would  take  that  time  to 
insure  that  the  line  should  be  clear.  The  powerful 
engine  called  Eochdale  (No.  247  on  the  company's 
register)  was  attached  to  two  carriages,  with  a  guard's 


THE  LOST  SPECIAL  179 

van  behind.  The  first  carriage  was  solely  for  the  pur- 
pose of  decreasing  the  inconvenience  arising  from  the 
oscillation.  The  second  was  divided,  as  usual,  into 
four  compartments,  a  first-class,  a  first-class  smoking,  a 
second-class,  and  a  second-class  smoking.  The  first 
compartment,  which  was  nearest  to  the  engine,  was  the 
one  allotted  to  the  travellers.  The  other  three  were 
empty.  The  guard  of  the  special  train  was  James 
McPherson,  who  had  been  some  years  in  the  service  of 
the  company.  The  stoker,  William  Smith,  was  a  new 
hand. 

Monsieur  Caratal,  upon  leaving  the  superintendent's 
office,  rejoined  his  companion,  and  both  of  them  mani- 
fested extreme  impatience  to  be  off.  Having  paid  the 
money  asked,  which  amounted  to  fifty  pounds  five 
shillings,  at  the  usual  special  rate  of  five  shillings  a 
mile,  they  demanded  to  be  shown  the  carriage,  and  at 
once  took  their  seats  in  it,  although  they  were  assured 
that  the  better  part  of  an  hour  must  elapse  before  the 
line  could  be  cleared.  In  the  meantime  a  singular 
coincidence  had  occurred  in  the  office  which  Monsieur 
Caratal  had  just  quitted. 

A  request  for  a  special  is  not  a  very  uncommon 
circumstance  in  a  rich  commercial  centre,  but  that  two 
should  be  required  upon  the  same  afternoon  was  most 
unusual.  It  so  happened,  however,  that  Mr.  Bland 
had  hardly  dismissed  the  first  traveller  before  a  second 
entered  with  a  similar  request.  This  was  a  Mr.  Horace 
Moore,  a  gentlemanly  man  of  military  appearance,  who 
alleged  that  the  sudden  serious  illness  of  his  wife  in 
London  made  it  absolutely  imperative  that  he  should 
not  lose  an  instant  in  starting  upon  the  journey.     His 


180  THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

distress  and  anxiety  were  so  evident  that  Mr.  Bland 
did  all  that  was  possible  to  meet  his  wishes.  A  second 
special  was  out  of  the  question,  as  the  ordinary  local 
service  was  already  somewhat  deranged  by  the  first. 
There  was  the  alternative,  however,  that  Mr.  Moore 
should  share  the  expense  of  Monsieur  Caratal's  train, 
and  should  travel  in  the  other  empty  first-class  com- 
partment, if  Monsieur  Caratal  objected  to  having  him 
in  the  one  which  he  occupied.  It  was  difficult  to  see 
any  objection  to  such  an  arrangement,  and  yet  Monsieur 
Caratal,  upon  the  suggestion  being  made  to  him  by  Mr. 
Potter  Hood,  absolutely  refused  to  consider  it  for  an 
instant.  The  train  was  his,  he  said,  and  he  would 
insist  upon  the  exclusive  use  of  it.  All  argument 
failed  to  overcome  his  ungracious  objections,  and  finally 
the  plan  had  to  be  abandoned.  Mr.  Horace  Moore  left 
the  station  in  great  distress,  after  learning  that  his  only 
course  was  to  take  the  ordinary  slow  train  which  leaves 
Liverpool  at  six  o'clock.  At  four  thirty-one  exactly 
by  the  station  clock  the  special  train,  containing  the 
crippled  Monsieur  Caratal  and  his  gigantic  companion, 
steamed  out  of  the  Liverpool  station.  The  line  was  at 
that  time  clear,  and  there  should  have  been  no  stoppage 
before  Manchester. 

The  trains  of  the  London  and  West  Coast  Railway 
run  over  the  lines  of  another  company  as  far  as  this 
town,  which  should  have  been  reached  by  the  special 
rather  before  six  o'clock.  At  a  quarter  after  six  con- 
siderable surprise  and  some  consternation  were  caused 
amongst  the  officials  at  Liverpool  by  the  receipt  of  a 
telegram  from  Manchester  to  say  that  it  had  not  yet 
arrived,    An  inquiry  directed  to  St.  Helens,  which  is  a 


THE  LOST  SPECIAL  181 

third  of  the  way  between  the  two  cities,  elicited  the 
following  reply : — 

"To  James  Bland,  Superintendent,  Central  L.  & 
W.  C,  Liverpool. — Special  passed  here  at  4.52,  well  up 
to  time. — Dowser,  St.  Helens." 

This  telegram  was  received  at  6.40.  At  6.50  a 
second  message  was  received  from  Manchester : — 

"  No  sign  of  special  as  advised  by  you." 

And  then  ten  minutes  later  a  third,  more 
bewildering : — 

"  Presume  some  mistake  as  to  proposed  running  of 
special.  Local  train  from  St.  Helens  timed  to  follow  it 
has  just  arrived  and  has  seen  nothing  of  it.  Kindly 
wire  advices. — Manchester." 

The  matter  was  assuming  a  most  amazing  aspect, 
although  in  some  respects  the  last  telegram  was  a 
relief  to  the  authorities  at  Liverpool.  If  an  accidenb 
had  occurred  to  the  special,  it  seemed  hardly  possible 
that  the  local  train  could  have  passed  down  the  same 
line  without  observing  it.  And  yet,  what  was  the 
alternative?  Where  could  the  train  be?  Had  it 
possibly  been  side-tracked  for  some  reason  in  order  to 
allow  the  slower  train  to  go  past  ?  Such  an  explana- 
tion was  possible  if  some  small  repair  had  to  be  effected. 
A  telegram  was  dispatched  to  each  of  the  stations 
between  St.  Helens  and  Manchester,  and  the  superin- 
tendent and  traffic  manager  waited  in  the  utmost 
suspense  at  the  instrument  for  the  series  of  replies 
which  would  enable  them  to  say  for  certain  what  had 
become  of  the  missing  train.  The  answers  came  back 
in  the  order  of  questions,  which  was  the  order  of  the 
stations  beginning  at  the  St.  Helens  end:  — 


182  THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

"  Special  passed  here  five  o'clock. — Collins  Green." 
"  Special  passed  here  six  past  five. — Earlestown." 
"  Special  passed  here  5.10. — Newton." 
"  Special  passed  here  5.20. — Kenyon  Junction." 
"  No  special  train  has  passed  here. — Barton  Moss." 
The  two  officials  stared  at  each  other  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  This  is  unique  in  my  thirty  years  of  experience," 
said  Mr.  Bland. 

"Absolutely  unprecedented  and  inexplicable,  sir. 
The  special  has  gone  wrong  between  Kenyon  Junction 
and  Barton  Moss." 

"  And  yet  there  is  no  siding,  so  far  as  my  memory 
serves  me,  between  the  two  stations.  The  special 
must  have  run  off  the  metals." 

"But  how  could  the  four-fifty  parliamentary  pass 
over  the  same  line  without  observing  it  ?  " 

"  There's  no  alternative,  Mr.  Hood.  It  must  be  so. 
Possibly  the  local  train  may  have  observed  something 
which  may  throw  some  light  upon  the  matter.  We 
will  wire  to  Manchester  for  more  information,  and  to 
Kenyon  Junction  with  instructions  that  the  line  be 
examined  instantly  as  far  as  Barton  Moss." 

The  answer  from  Manchester  came  within  a  few 
minutes. 

"No  news  of  missing  special.  Driver  and  guard 
of  slow  train  positive  no  accident  between  Kenyon 
Junction  and  Barton  Moss.  Line  quite  clear,  and  no 
sign  of  anything  unusual. — Manchester." 

"  That  driver  and  guard  will  have  to  go,"  said  Mr. 
Bland,  grimly.  u  There  has  been  a  wreck  and  they 
have  missed  it.    The  special  has  obviously  run  off  the 


THE  LOST  SPECIAL  183 

metals  without  disturbing  the  line — how  it  could  have 
done  so  passes  my  comprehension — but  so  it  must  be, 
and  we  shall  have  a  wire  from  Kenyon  or  Barton  Moss 
presently  to  say  that  they  have  found  her  at  the 
bottom  of  an  embankment." 

But  Mr.  Bland's  prophecy  was  not  destined  to  be 
fulfilled.  Half  an  hour  passed,  and  then  there  arrived 
the  following  message  from  the  station-master  of 
Kenyon  Junction : — 

"  There  are  no  traces  of  the  missing  special.  It  is 
quite  certain  that  she  passed  here,  and  that  she  did 
not  arrive  at  Barton  Moss.  We  have  detached  engine 
from  goods  train,  and  I  have  myself  ridden  down  the 
line,  but  all  is  clear,  and  there  is  no  sign  of  any 
accident." 

Mr.  Bland  tore  his  hair  in  his  perplexity. 

"  This  is  rank  lunacy,  Hood  !  "  he  cried.  "  Does  a 
train  vanish  into  thin  air  in  England  in  broad  day- 
light? The  thing  is  preposterous.  An  engine,  a 
tender,  two  carriages,  a  van,  five  human  beings — and 
all  lost  on  a  straight  line  of  railway !  Unless  we  get 
something  positive  within  the  next  hour  I'll  take 
Inspector  Collins,  and  go  down  myself." 

And  then  at  last  something  positive  did  occur.  It 
took  the  shape  of  another  telegram  from  Kenyon 
Junction. 

"Kegret  to  report  that  the  dead  body  of  John 
Slater,  driver  of  the  special  train,  has  just  been  found 
among  the  gorse  bushes  at  a  point  two  and  a  quarter 
miles  from  the  Junction.  Had  fallen  from  his  engine, 
pitched  down  the  embankment,  and  rolled  among 
bushes.    Injuries  to  his  head,  from  the  fall,  appear 


184  THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

to  be  cause  of  death.  Ground  has  now  been  carefully 
examined,  and  there  is  no  trace  of  the  missing  train.'* 

The  country  was,  as  has  already  been  stated,  in 
the  throes  of  a  political  crisis,  and  the  attention  of 
the  public  was  further  distracted  by  the  important 
and  sensational  developments  in  Paris,  where  a  huge 
scandal  threatened  to  destroy  the  Government  and  to 
wreck  the  reputations  of  many  of  the  leading  men 
in  France.  The  papers  were  full  of  these  events,  and 
the  singular  disappearance  of  the  special  train  attracted 
less  attention  than  would  have  been  the  case  in  more 
peaceful  times.  The  grotesque  nature  of  the  event 
helped  to  detract  from  its  importance,  for  the  papers 
were  disinclined  to  believe  the  facts  as  reported  to 
them.  More  than  one  of  the  London  journals  treated 
the  matter  as  an  ingenious  hoax,  until  the  coroner  s 
inquest  upon  the  unfortunate  driver  (an  inquest  which 
elicited  nothing  of  importance)  convinced  them  of  the 
tragedy  of  the  incident. 

Mr.  Bland,  accompanied  by  Inspector  Collins,  the 
senior  detective  officer  in  the  service  of  the  company, 
went  down  to  Kenyon  Junction  the  same  evening,  and 
their  research  lasted  throughout  the  following  day,  but 
was  attended  with  purely  negative  results.  Not  only 
was  no  trace  found  of  the  missing  train,  but  no  con- 
jecture could  be  put  forward  which  could  possibly 
explain  the  facts.  At  the  same  time,  Inspector 
Collin  s's  official  report  (which  lies  before  me  as  I 
write)  served  to  show  that  the  possibilities  were  more 
numerous  than  might  have  been  expected. 

"In  the  stretch  of  railway  between  these  two 
points,''  said  he,  "  the  country  is  dotted  with  ironworks 


THE  LOST  SPECIAL  185 

and  collieries.  Of  these,  some  are  being  worked  and 
some  have  been  abandoned.  There  are  no  fewer  than 
twelve  which  have  small  gauge  lines  which  run  trolly- 
cars  down  to  the  main  line.  These  can,  of  course,  be 
disregarded.  Besides  these,  however,  there  are  seven 
which  have  or  have  had,  proper  lines  running  down 
and  connecting  with  points  to  the  main  line,  so  as  to 
convey  their  produce  from  the  mouth  of  the  mine  to 
the  great  centres  of  distribution.  In  every  case  these 
lines  are  only  a  few  miles  in  length.  Out  of  the 
seven,  four  belong  to  collieries  which  are  worked  out, 
or  at  least  to  shafts  which  are  no  longer  used.  These 
are  the  Eedgauntlet,  Hero,  Slough  of  Despond,  and 
Heartsease  mines,  the  latter  having  ten  years  ago  been 
one  of  the  principal  mines  in  Lancashire.  These  four 
side  lines  may  be  eliminated  from  our  inquiry,  for,  to 
prevent  possible  accidents,  the  rails  nearest  to  the 
main  line  have  been  taken  up,  and  there  is  no  longer 
any  connection.  There  remain  three  other  side  lines 
leading — 

(a)  To  the  Carnstock  Iron  Works ; 

(b)  To  the  Big  Ben  Colliery  ; 

(c)  To  the  Perseverance  Colliery. 

"  Of  these  the  Big  Ben  line  is  not  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  long,  and  ends  at  a  dead  wall  of 
coal  waiting  removal  from  the  mouth  of  the  mine. 
Nothing  had  been  seen  or  heard  there  of  any  special. 
The  Carnstock  Iron  Works  line  was  blocked  all  day 
upon  the  3rd  of  June  by  sixteen  truckloads  of  hematite. 
It  is  a  single  line,  and  nothing  could  have  passed.  As 
to  the  Perseverance  line,  it  is  a  large  double  line, 
which  does  a  considerable  traffic,  for  the  output  of 


186  THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

the  mine  is  very  large.  On  the  3rd  of  June  this  traffic 
proceeded  as  usual ;  hundreds  of  men,  including  a  gang 
of  railway  platelayers,  were  working  along  the  two  miles 
and  a  quarter  which  constitute  the  total  length  of  the 
line,  and  it  is  inconceivable  that  an  unexpected  train 
could  have  come  down  there  without  attracting 
universal  attention.  It  may  be  remarked  in  conclusion 
that  this  branch  line  is  nearer  to  St.  Helens  than  the 
point  at  which  the  engine-driver  was  discovered,  so 
that  we  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  train  was 
past  that  point  before  misfortune  overtook  her. 

"As  to  John  Slater,  there  is  no  clue  to  be  gathered 
from  his  appearance  or  injuries.  We  can  only  say 
that,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  he  met  his  end  by  falling 
off  his  engine,  though  why  he  fell,  or  what  became  of 
the  engine  after  his  fall,  is  a  question  upon  which  I 
do  not  feel  qualified  to  offer  an  opinion."  In  conclu- 
sion, the  inspector  offered  his  resignation  to  the  Board, 
being  much  nettled  by  an  accusation  of  incompetence 
in  the  London  papers. 

A  month  elapsed,  during  which  both  the  police 
and  the  company  prosecuted  their  inquiries  without 
the  slightest  success.  A  reward  was  offered  and  a 
pardon  promised  in  case  of  crime,  but  they  were  both 
unclaimed.  Every  day  the  public  opened  their  papers 
with  the  conviction  that  so  grotesque  a  mystery  would 
at  last  be  solved,  but  week  after  week  passed  by,  and 
a  solution  remained  as  far  off  as  ever.  In  broad  day- 
light, upon  a  June  afternoon  in  the  most  thickly  in- 
habited portion  of  England,  a  train  with  its  occupants 
had  disappeared  as  completely  as  if  some  master  of 
subtle  chemistry  had  volatilized  it  into  gas.    Indeed, 


THE  LOST  SPECIAL  187 

among  the  various  conjectures  which  were  put  forward 
in  the  public  Press  there  were  some  which  seriously 
asserted  that  supernatural,  or,  at  least,  preternatural, 
agencies  had  been  at  work,  and  that  the  deformed 
Monsieur  Caratal  was  probably  a  person  who  was 
better  known  under  a  less  polite  name.  Others  fixed 
upon  his  swarthy  companion  as  being  the  author  of 
the  mischief,  but  what  it  was  exactly  which  he  had 
done  could  never  be  clearly  formulated  in  words. 

Amongst  the  many  suggestions  put  forward  by 
various  newspapers  or  private  individuals,  there  were 
one  or  two  which  were  feasible  enough  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  public.  One  which  appeared  in  the 
Times,  over  the  signature  of  an  amateur  reasoner  of 
some  celebrity  at  that  date,  attempted  to  deal  with 
the  matter  in  a  critical  and  semi-scientific  manner. 
An  extract  must  suffice,  although  the  curious  can 
see  the  whole  letter  in  the  issue  of  the  3rd  of 
July. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  elementary  principles  of  practical 
reasoning,"  he  remarked,  "that  when  the  impossible 
has  been  eliminated  the  residuum,  however  improbable, 
must  contain  the  truth.  It  is  certain  that  the  train 
left  Kenyon  Junction.  It  is  certain  that  it  did  not 
reach  Barton  Moss.  It  is  in  the  highest  degree  un- 
likely, but  still  possible,  that  it  may  have  taken  one 
of  the  seven  available  side  lines.  It  is  obviously  im- 
possible for  a  train  to  run  where  there  are  no  rails, 
and,  therefore,  we  may  reduce  our  improbables  to  the 
three  open  lines,  namely,  the  Carnstock  Iron  Works, 
the  Big  Ben,  and  the  Perseverance.  Is  there  a  secret 
society    of   colliers,    an    English    camorra,  which    is 


188  THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

capable  of  destroying  both  train  and  passengers?  It 
is  improbable,  but  it  is  not  impossible.  I  confess 
that  I  am  unable  to  suggest  any  other  solution.  I 
should  certainly  advise  the  company  to  direct  all 
their  energies  towards  the  observation  of  those  three 
lines,  and  of  the  workmen  at  the  end  of  them.  A 
careful  supervision  of  the  pawnbrokers'  shops  of  the 
district  might  possibly  bring  some  suggestive  facts  to 
light." 

The  suggestion  coining  from  a  recognized  authority 
upon  such  matters  created  considerable  interest,  and 
a  fierce  opposition  from  those  who  considered  such  a 
statement  to  be  a  preposterous  libel  upon  an  honest 
and  deserving  set  of  men.  The  only  answer  to  this 
criticism  was  a  challenge  to  the  objectors  to  lay  any 
more  feasible  explanation  before  the  public.  In  reply  to 
this  two  others  were  forthcoming  (Times,  July  7th  and 
9th).  The  first  suggested  that  the  train  might  have 
run  off  the  metals  and  be  lying  submerged  in  the 
Lancashire  and  Staffordshire  Canal,  which  runs  parallel 
to  the  railway  for  some  hundreds  of  yards.  This  sug- 
gestion was  thrown  out  of  court  by  the  published  depth 
of  the  canal,  which  was  entirely  insufficient  to  conceal 
so  large  an  object.  The  second  correspondent  wrote 
calling  attention  to  the  bag  which  appeared  to  be  the 
sole  luggage  which  the  travellers  had  brought  with 
them,  and  suggesting  that  some  novel  explosive  of 
immense  and  pulverizing  power  might  have  been 
concealed  in  it.  The  obvious  absurdity,  however,  of 
supposing  that  the  whole  train  might  be  blown  to 
dust  while  the  metals  remained  uninjured  reduced 
any  such  explanation  to  a  farce.    The  investigation 


THE  LOST  SPECIAL  189 

had  drifted  into  this  hopeless  position  when   a  new 
and  most  unexpected  incident  occurred. 

This  was  nothing  less  than  the  receipt  by  Mrs. 
McPherson  of  a  letter  from  her  husband,  James 
McPherson,  who  had  been  the  guard  of  the  missing 
train.  The  letter,  which  was  dated  July  5th,  1890, 
was  posted  from  New  York,  and  came  to  hand  upon 
July  14th.  Some  doubts  were  expressed  as  to  its 
genuine  character,  but  Mrs.  McPherson  was  positive  as 
to  the  writing,  and  the  fact  that  it  contained  a  remit- 
tance of  a  hundred  dollars  in  five-dollar  notes  was 
enough  in  itself  to  discount  the  idea  of  a  hoax.  No 
address  was  given  in  the  letter,  which  ran  in  this  way : — 

"My  dear  Wife, — 

"  I  have  been  thinking  a  great  deal,  and  I  find 
it  very  hard  to  give  you  up.  The  same  with  Lizzie. 
I  try  to  fight  against  it,  but  it  will  always  come  back  to 
me.  I  send  you  some  money  which  will  change  into 
twenty  English  pounds.  This  should  be  enough  to  bring 
both  Lizzie  and  you  across  the  Atlantic,  and  you  will  find 
the  Hamburg  boats  which  stop  at  Southampton  very 
good  boats,  and  cheaper  than  Liverpool.  If  you  could 
come  here  and  stop  at  the  Johnston  House  I  would  try 
and  send  you  word  how  to  meet,  but  things  are  very 
difficult  with  me  at  present,  and  I  am  not  very  happy, 
finding  it  hard  to  give  you  both  up.  So  no  more  at 
present,  from  your  loving  husband, 

"James  McPherson." 

For  a  time  it  was  confidently  anticipated  that  this 
letter  would  lead  to  the  clearing  up  of  the  whole 


190  THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

matter,  the  more  so  as  it  was  ascertained  that  a  pas- 
senger who  bore  a  close  resemblance  to  the  missing 
guard  had  travelled  from  Southampton  under  the  name 
of  Summers  in  the  Hamburg  and  New  York  liner 
Vistula,  which  started  upon  the  7th  of  June.  Mrs. 
McPherson  and  her  sister  Lizzie  Dolton  went  across  to 
New  York  as  directed,  and  stayed  for  three  weeks  at 
the  Johnston  House,  without  hearing  anything  from 
the  missing  man.  It  is  probable  that  some  injudicious 
comments  in  the  Press  may  have  warned  him  that  the 
police  were  using  them  as  a  bait.  However  this  may 
be,  it  is  certain  that  he  neither  wrote  nor  came,  and 
the  women  were  eventually  compelled  to  return  to 
Liverpool. 

And  so  the  matter  stood,  and  has  continued  to 
stand  up  to  the  present  year  of  1898.  Incredible  as 
it  may  seem,  nothing  has  transpired  during  these  eight 
years  which  has  shed  the  least  light  upon  the  extra- 
ordinary disappearance  of  the  special  train  which  con- 
tained Monsieur  Caratal  and  his  companion.  Careful 
inquiries  into  the  antecedents  of  the  two  travellers 
have  only  established  the  fact  that  Monsieur  Caratal 
was  well  known  as  a  financier  and  political  agent  in 
Central  America,  and  that  during  his  voyage  to  Europe 
he  had  betrayed  extraordinary  anxiety  to  reach  Paris. 
His  companion,  whose  name  was  entered  upon  the  pas- 
senger lists  as  Eduardo  Gomez,  was  a  man  whose 
record  was  a  violent  one,  and  whose  reputation  was 
that  of  a  bravo  and  a  bully.  There  was  evidence  to 
show,  however,  that  he  was  honestly  devoted  to  the 
interests  of  Monsieur  Caratal,  and  that  the  latter,  being 
a  man  of  puny  physique,  employed  the  other  as  a  guard 


THE  LOST  SPECIAL  191 

and  protector.  It  may  be  added  that  no  information 
came  from  Paris  as  to  what  the  objects  of  Monsieur 
Caratal's  hurried  journey  may  have  been.  This  com- 
prises all  the  facts  of  the  case  up  to  the  publication  in 
the  Marseilles  papers  of  the  recent  confession  of  Her- 
bert de  Lernac,  now  under  sentence  of  death  for  the 
murder  of  a  merchant  named  Bonvalot.  This  state- 
ment may  be  literally  translated  as  follows : — 

"  It  is  not  out  of  mere  pride  or  boasting  that  I  give 
this  information,  for,  if  that  were  my  object,  I  could 
tell  a  dozen  actions  of  mine  which  are  quite  as  splen- 
did; but  I  do  it  in  order  that  certain  gentlemen  in 
Paris  may  understand  that  I,  who  am  able  here  to  tell 
about  the  fate  of  Monsieur  Caratal,  can  also  tell  in 
whose  interest  and  at  whose  request  the  deed  was  done, 
unless  the  reprieve  which  I  am  awaiting  comes  to  me 
very  quickly.  Take  warning,  messieurs,  before  it  is  too 
late !  You  know  Herbert  de  Lernac,  and  you  are  aware 
that  his  deeds  are  as  ready  as  his  words.  Hasten  then, 
or  you  are  lost ! 

"At  present  I  shall  mention  no  names — if  you 
only  heard  the  names,  what  would  you  not  think! 
— but  I  shall  merely  tell  you  how  cleverly  I  did 
it.  I  was  true  to  my  employers  then,  and  no  doubt 
they  will  be  true  to  me  now.  I  hope  so,  and  until 
I  am  convinced  that  they  have  betrayed  me,  these 
names,  which  would  convulse  Europe,  shall  not  be 
divulged.  But  on  that  day  .  .  .  well,  I  say  no 
more ! 

"  In  a  word,  then,  there  was  a  famous  trial  in 
Paris,  in  the  year  1890,  in  connection  with  a  mon- 
strous scandal  in  politics  and  finance.     How  monstrous 


192  THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

that  scandal  was  can  never  be  known  save  by  such 
confidential  agents  as  myself.  The  honour  and  careers 
of  many  of  the  chief  men  in  France  were  at  stake. 
You  have  seen  a  group  of  nine-pins  standing,  all  so 
rigid,  and  prim,  and  unbending.  Then  there  comes 
the  ball  from  far  away  and  pop,  pop,  pop — there 
are  your  nine-pins  on  the  floor.  Well,  imagine  some 
of  the  greatest  men  in  France  as  these  nine-pins, 
and  then  this  Monsieur  Caratal  was  the  ball  which 
could  be  seen  coming  from  far  away.  If  he  arrived, 
then  it  was  pop,  pop,  pop  for  all  of  them.  It  was 
determined  that  he  should  not  arrive. 

"  I  do  not  accuse  them  all  of  being  conscious  of 
what  was  to  happen.  There  were,  as  I  have  said, 
great  financial  as  well  as  political  interests  at  stake, 
and  a  syndicate  was  formed  to  manage  the  business. 
Some  subscribed  to  the  syndicate  who  hardly  under- 
stood what  were  its  objects.  But  others  understood 
very  well,  and  they  can  rely  upon  it  that  I  have 
not  forgotten  their  names.  They  had  ample  warning 
that  Monsieur  Caratal  was  coming  long  before  he 
left  South  America,  and  they  knew  that  the  evidence 
which  he  held  would  certainly  mean  ruin  to  all  of 
them.  The  syndicate  had  the  command  of  an  un- 
limited amount  of  money — absolutely  unlimited,  you 
understand.  They  looked  round  for  an  agent  who 
was  capable  of  wielding  this  gigantic  power.  The 
man  chosen  must  be  inventive,  resolute,  adaptive — 
a  man  in  a  million.  They  chose  Herbert  de  Lernac, 
and  I  admit  that  they  were  right. 

"My  duties  were  to  choose  my  subordinates,  to 
use    freely  the    power  which    money  gives,  and    to 


THE  LOST  SPECIAL  193 

make  certain  that  Monsieur  Caratal  should  never 
arrive  in  Paris.  With  characteristic  energy  I  set 
about  my  commission  within  an  hour  of  receiving 
my  instructions,  and  the  steps  which  I  took  were 
the  very  best  for  the  purpose  which  could  possibly 
be  devised. 

"A  man  whom  I  could  trust  was  dispatched 
instantly  to  South  America  to  travel  home  with 
Monsieur  Caratal.  Had  he  arrived  in  time  the  ship 
would  never  have  reached  Liverpool ;  but,  alas !  it 
had  already  started  before  my  agent  could  reach  it. 
I  fitted  out  a  small  armed  brig  to  intercept  it,  but 
again  I  was  unfortunate.  Like  all  great  organizers 
I  was,  however,  prepared  for  failure,  and  had  a  series 
of  alternatives  prepared,  one  or  the  other  of  which 
must  succeed.  You  must  not  underrate  the  difficulties 
of  my  undertaking,  or  imagine  that  a  mere  common- 
place assassination  would  meet  the  case.  We  must 
destroy  not  only  Monsieur  Caratal,  but  Monsieur 
Caratal's  documents,  and  Monsieur  Caratal's  com- 
panions also,  if  we  had  reason  to  believe  that  he 
had  communicated  his  secrets  to  them.  And  you 
must  remember  that  they  were  on  the  alert,  and 
keenly  suspicious  of  any  such  attempt.  It  was  a 
task  which  was  in  every  way  worthy  of  me,  for  I 
am  always  most  masterful  where  another  would  be 
appalled. 

"  I  was  all  ready  for  Monsieur  Caratal's  reception 
in  Liverpool,  and  I  was  the  more  eager  because  I 
had  reason  to  believe  that  he  had  made  arrangements 
by  which  he  would  have  a  considerable  guard  from 
the  moment  that  he   arrived  in  London.     Anything 

o 


194  THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

which  was  to  be  done  must  be  done  between  the 
moment  of  his  setting  foot  upon  the  Liverpool  quay 
and  that  of  his  arrival  at  the  London  and  West 
Coast  terminus  in  London.  We  prepared  six  plans, 
each  more  elaborate  than  the  last ;  which  plan  would 
be  used  would  depend  upon  his  own  movements.  Do 
what  he  would,  we  were  ready  for  him.  If  he  had 
stayed  in  Liverpool,  we  were  ready.  If  he  took  an 
ordinary  train,  an  express,  or  a  special,  all  was  ready. 
Everything  had  been  foreseen  and  provided  for. 

"You  may  imagine  that  I  could  not  do  all  this 
myself.  What  could  I  know  of  the  English  railway 
lines?  But  money  can  procure  willing  agents  all 
the  world  over,  and  I  soon  had  one  of  the  acutest 
brains  in  England  to  assist  me.  I  will  mention  no 
names,  but  it  would  be  unjust  to  claim  all  the  credit 
for  myself.  My  English  ally  was  worthy  of  such 
an  alliance.  He  knew  the  London  and  West  Coast 
line  thoroughly,  and  he  had  the  command  of  a  band 
of  workers  who  were  trustworthy  and  intelligent. 
The  idea  was  his,  and  my  own  judgment  was  only 
required  in  the  details.  We  bought  over  several 
officials,  amongst  whom  the  most  important  was 
James  McPherson,  whom  we  had  ascertained  to  be 
the  guard  most  likely  to  be  employed  upon  a  special 
train.  Smith,  the  stoker,  was  also  in  our  employ. 
John  Slater,  the  engine-driver,  had  been  approached, 
but  had  been  found  to  be  obstinate  and  dangerous, 
so  we  desisted.  We  had  no  certainty  that  Monsieur 
Caratal  would  take  a  special,  but  we  thought  it  very 
probable,  for  it  was  of  the  utmost  importance  to 
bim  that  he  should  reach  Paris  without  delay.    It 


THE   LOST   SPECIAL  195 

was  for  this  contingency,  therefore,  that  we  made 
special  preparations — preparations  which  were  com- 
plete down  to  the  last  detail  long  before  his  steamer 
had  sighted  the  shores  of  England.  You  will  ho 
amused  to  learn  that  there  was  one  of  my  agents  in  the 
pilot-boat  which  brought  that  steamer  to  its  moorings. 

"The  moment  that  Caratal  arrived  in  Liverpool 
we  knew  that  he  suspected  danger  and  was  on  his 
guard.  He  had  brought  with  him  as  an  escort,  a 
dangerous  fellow,  named  Gomez,  a  man  who  carried 
weapons,  and  was  prepared  to  use  them.  This  fellow 
carried  Caratal's  confidential  papers  for  him,  and 
was  ready  to  protect  either  them  or  his  master.  The 
probability  was  that  Caratal  had  taken  him  into  his 
counsels,  and  that  to  remove  Caratal  without  removing 
Gomez  would  be  a  mere  waste  of  energy.  It  was 
necessary  that  they  should  be  involved  in  a  common 
fate,  and  our  plans  to  that  end  were  much  facilitated 
by  their  request  for  a  special  train.  On  that  special 
train  you  will  understand  that  two  out  of  the  three 
servants  of  the  company  were  really  in  our  employ, 
at  a  price  which  would  make  them  independent  for 
a  lifetime.  I  do  not  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  the 
English  are  more  honest  than  any  other  nation,  but 
I  have  found  them  more  expensive  to  buy. 

"  I  have  already  spoken  of  my  English  agent — who 
is  a  man  with  a  considerable  future  before  him,  unless 
some  complaint  of  the  throat  carries  him  off  before  his 
time.  He  had  charge  of  all  arrangements  at  Liverpool, 
whilst  I  was  stationed  at  the  inn  at  Kenyon,  where  I 
awaited  a  cipher  signal  to  act.  When  the  special  was 
arranged  for,  my  agent  instantly  telegraphed  to  me  and 


196  THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

warned  me  how  soon  I  should  have  everything  ready. 
He  himself  under  the  name  of  Horace  Moore  applied 
immediately  for  a  special  also,  in  the  hope  that  he 
would  be  sent  down  with  Monsieur  Caratal,  which 
might  under  certain  circumstances  have  been  helpful 
to  us.  If,  for  example,  our  great  coup  had  failed,  it 
would  then  have  become  the  duty  of  my  agent  to  have 
shot  them  both  and  destroyed  their  papers.  Caratal 
was  on  his  guard,  however,  and  refused  to  admit  any 
other  traveller.  My  agent  then  left  the  station,  re- 
turned by  another  entrance,  entered  the  guard's  van  on 
the  side  farthest  from  the  platform,  and  travelled  down 
with  McPherson  the  guard. 

"  In  the  meantime  you  will  be  interested  to  know 
what  my  movements  were.  Everything  had  been  pre- 
pared for  days  before,  and  only  the  finishing  touches 
were  needed.  The  side  line  which  we  had  chosen  had 
once  joined  the  main  line,  but  it  had  been  disconnected. 
We  had  only  to  replace  a  few  rails  to  connect  it  once 
more.  These  rails  had  been  laid  down  as  far  as  could 
be  done  without  danger  of  attracting  attention,  and 
now  it  was  merely  a  case  of  completing  a  juncture  with 
the  line,  and  arranging  the  points  as  they  had  been 
before.  The  sleepers  had  never  been  removed,  and  the 
rails,  fish-plates,  and  rivets  were  all  ready,  for  we  had 
taken  them  from  a  siding  on  the  abandoned  portion 
of  the  line.  With  my  small  but  competent  band  of 
workers,  we  had  everything  ready  long  before  the 
special  arrived.  When  it  did  arrive,  it  ran  off  upon 
the  small  side  line  so  easily  that  the  jolting  of  the 
points  appears  to  have  been  entirely  unnoticed  by  the 
two  travellers. 


THE  LOST  SPECIAL  197 

"  Our  plan  had  been  that  Smith  the  stoker  should 
chloroform  John  Slater  the  driver,  so  that  he  should 
vanish  with  the  others.  In  this  respect,  and  in 
this  respect  only,  our  plans  miscarried — I  except  the 
criminal  folly  of  McPherson  in  writing  home  to  his 
wife.  Our  stoker  did  his  business  so  clumsily  that 
Slater  in  his  struggles  fell  off  the  engine,  and  though 
fortune  was  with  us  so  far  that  he  broke  his  neck  in 
the  fall,  still  he  remained  as  a  blot  upon  that  which 
would  otherwise  have  been  one  of  those  complete 
masterpieces  which  are  only  to  be  contemplated  in 
silent  admiration.  The  criminal  expert  will  find  in 
John  Slater  the  one  flaw  in  all  our  admirable  combina- 
tions. A  man  who  has  had  as  many  triumphs  as  I  can 
afford  to  be  frank,  and  I  therefore  lay  my  finger  upon 
John  Slater,  and  I  proclaim  him  to  be  a  flaw. 

"  But  now  I  have  got  our  special  train  upon  the 
small  line  two  kilometres,  or  rather  more  than  one  mile, 
in  length,  which  leads,  or  rather  used  to  lead,  to  the 
abandoned  Heartsease  mine,  once  one  of  the  largest 
coal  mines  in  England.  You  will  ask  how  it  is  that 
no  one  saw  the  train  upon  this  unused  line.  I  answer 
that  along  its  entire  length  it  runs  through  a  deep  cut- 
ting, and  that,  unless  some  one  had  been  on  the  edge  of 
that  cutting,  he  could  not  have  seen  it.  There  was 
some  one  on  the  edge  of  that  cutting.  I  was  there. 
And  now  I  will  tell  you  what  I  saw. 

"  My  assistant  had  remained  at  the  points  in  order 
that  he  might  superintend  the  switching  off  of  the 
train.  He  had  four  armed  men  with  him,  so  that  if 
the  train  ran  off  the  line — we  thought  it  probable, 
because  the  points  were  very  rusty — we  might  still 


198  THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

have  resources  to  fall  back  upon.  Having  once  seen  it 
safely  on  the  side  line,  he  handed  over  the  responsi- 
bility to  me.  I  was  waiting  at  a  point  which  overlooks 
the  mouth  of  the  mine,  and  I  was  also  armed,  as  were 
my  two  companions.  Come  what  might,  you  see,  I 
was  always  ready. 

"  The  moment  that  the  train  was  fairly  on  the  side 
line,  Smith,  the  stoker,  slowed-down  the  engine,  and 
then,  having  turned  it  on  to  the  fullest  speed  again,  he 
and  McPherson,  with  my  English  lieutenant,  sprang 
off  before  it  was  too  late.  It  may  be  that  it  was  this 
slowing-down  which  first  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
travellers,  but  the  train  was  running  at  full  speed  again 
before  their  heads  appeared  at  the  open  window.  It 
makes  me  smile  to  think  how  bewildered  they  must 
have  been.  Picture  to  yourself  your  own  feelings  if,  on 
looking  out  of  your  luxurious  carriage,  you  suddenly 
perceived  that  the  lines  upon  which  you  ran  were  rusted 
and  corroded,  red  and  yellow  with  disuse  and  decay  ! 
What  a  catch  must  have  come  in  their  breath  as  in  a 
second  it  flashed  upon  them  that  it  was  not  Manchester 
but  Death  which  was  waiting  for  them  at  the  end  of  that 
sinister  line.  But  the  train  was  running  with  frantic 
speed,  rolling  and  rocking  over  the  rotten  line,  while 
the  wheels  made  a  frightful  screaming  sound  upon  the 
rusted  surface.  I  was  close  to  them,  and  could  see 
their  faces.  Caratal  was  praying,  I  think — there  was 
something  like  a  rosary  dangling  out  of  his  hand.  The 
other  roared  like  a  bull  who  smells  the  blood  of  the 
slaughter-house.  He  saw  us  standing  on  the  bank, 
and  he  beckoned  to  us  like  a  madman.  Then  he  tore 
at  his  wrist   and  threw  his  dispatch-box  out  of  the 


THE  LOST  SPECIAL  199 

■window  in  our  direction.  Of  course,  his  meaning  was 
obvious.  Here  was  the  evidence,  and  they  would 
promise  to  be  silent  if  their  lives  were  spared.  It 
would  have  been  very  agreeable  if  we  could  have  done 
so,  but  business  is  business.  Besides,  the  train  was 
now  as  much  beyond  our  control  as  theirs. 

"  He  ceased  howling  when  the  train  rattled  round 
the  curve  and  they  saw  the  black  mouth  of  the  mine 
yawning  before  them.  We  had  removed  the  boards 
which  had  covered  it,  and  we  had  cleared  the  square 
entrance.  The  rails  had  formerly  run  very  close  to 
the  shaft  for  the  convenience  of  loading  the  coal,  and 
we  had  only  to  add  two  or  three  lengths  of  rail  in  order 
to  lead  to  the  very  brink  of  the  shaft.  In  fact,  as  the 
lengths  would  not  quite  fit,  our  line  projected  about 
three  feet  over  the  edge.  We  saw  the  two  heads  at  the 
window  :  Caratal  below,  Gomez  above ;  but  they  had 
both  been  struck  silent  by  what  they  saw.  And  yet 
they  could  not  withdraw  their  heads.  The  sight  seemed 
to  have  paralyzed  them. 

"  I  had  wondered  how  the  train  running  at  a  great 
speed  would  take  the  pit  into  which  I  had  guided  it, 
and  I  was  much  interested  in  watching  it.  One  of  my 
colleagues  thought  that  it  would  actually  jump  it,  and 
indeed  it  was  not  very  far  from  doing  so.  Fortu- 
nately, however,  it  fell  short,  and  the  buffers  of  the 
engine  struck  the  other  lip  of  the  shaft  with  a  tremen- 
dous crash.  The  funnel  flew  off  into  the  air.  The 
tender,  carriages,  and  van  were  all  smashed  up  into  one 
jumble,  which,  with  the  remains  of  the  engine,  choked 
for  a  minute  or  so  the  mouth  of  the  pit.  Then  some- 
thing gave  way  in  the  middle,  and  the  whole  mass  of 


200  THE  LOST  SPECIAL 

green  iron,  smoking  coals,  brass  fittings,  wheels,  wood- 
work, and  cushions  all  crumbled  together  and  crashed 
down  into  the  mine.  We  heard  the  rattle,  rattle,  rattle, 
as  the  debris  struck  against  the  walls,  and  then  quite 
a  long  time  afterwards  there  came  a  deep  roar  as  the 
remains  of  the  train  struck  the  bottom.  The  boiler 
may  have  burst,  for  a  sharp  crash  came  after  the  roar, 
and  then  a  dense  cloud  of  steam  and  smoke  swirled  up 
out  of  the  black  depths,  falling  in  a  spray  as  thick  as 
rain  all  round  us.  Then  the  vapour  shredded  off  into 
thin  wisps,  which  floated  away  in  the  summer  sun- 
shine, and  all  was  quiet  again  in  the  Heartsease  mine. 

"  And  now,  having  carried  out  our  plans  so  success- 
fully, it  only  remained  to  leave  no  trace  behind  us. 
Our  little  band  of  workers  at  the  other  end  had  already 
ripped  up  the  rails  and  disconnected  the  side  line, 
replacing  everything  as  it  had  been  before.  We  were 
equally  busy  at  the  mine.  The  funnel  and  other  frag- 
ments were  thrown  in,  the  shaft  was  planked  over  as  it 
used  to  be,  and  the  lines  which  led  to  it  were  torn  up 
and  taken  away.  Then,  without  flurry,  but  without 
delay,  we  all  made  our  way  out  of  the  country,  most  of 
us  to  Paris,  my  English  colleague  to  Manchester,  and 
McPherson  to  Southampton,  whence  he  emigrated  to 
America.  Let  the  English  papers  of  that  date  tell  how 
thoroughly  we  had  done  our  work,  and  how  completely 
we  had  thrown  the  cleverest  of  their  detectives  off  our 
track. 

"  You  will  remember  that  Gomez  threw  his  bag  of 
papers  out  of  the  window,  and  I  need  not  say  that  I 
secured  that  bag  and  brought  them  to  my  employers. 
It  may  interest  my  employers  now,  however,  to  learn 


THE  LOST  SPECIAL  201 

that  out  of  that  bag  I  took  one  or  two  little  papers  as  a 
souvenir  of  the  occasion.  I  have  no  wish  to  publish 
these  papers ;  but,  still,  it  is  every  man  for  himself  in 
this  world,  and  what  else  can  I  do  if  my  friends  will 
not  come  to  my  aid  when  I  want  them  ?  Messieurs, 
you  may  believe  that  Herbert  de  Lernac  is  quite  as 
formidable  when  he  is  against  you  as  when  he  is  with 
you,  and  that  he  is  not  a  man  to  go  to  the  guillotine 
until  he  has  seen  that  every  one  of  you  is  en  route  for 
New  Caledonia.     For  your  own  sake,  if  not  for  mine, 

make  haste,  Monsieur  de ,  and  General ,  and 

Baron (you  can  fill  up  the  blanks  for  yourselves 

as  you  read  this).  I  promise  you  that  in  the  next 
edition  there  will  be  no  blanks  to  fill. 

"  P.S. — As  I  look  over  my  statement  there  is  only 
one  omission  which  I  can  see.  It  concerns  the  unfor- 
tunate man  McPherson,  who  was  foolish  enough  to 
write  to  his  wife  and  to  make  an  appointment  with  her 
in  New  York.  It  can  be  imagined  that  when  interests 
like  ours  were  at  stake,  we  could  not  leave  them  to  the 
chance  of  whether  a  man  in  that  class  of  life  would  or 
would  not  give  away  his  secrets  to  a  woman.  Having 
once  broken  his  oath  by  writing  to  his  wife,  we  could 
not  trust  him  any  more.  We  took  steps  therefore  to 
insure  that  he  should  not  see  his  wife.  I  have  some- 
times thought  that  it  would  be  a  kindness  to  write  to 
her  and  to  assure  her  that  there  is  no  impediment  to 
her  marrying  again." 


THE   CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER 

My  uncle,  Mr.  Stephen  Maple,  had  been  at  the  same 
time  the  most  successful  and  the  least  respectable  of 
our  family,  so  that  we  hardly  knew  whether  to  take 
credit  for  his  wealth  or  to  feel  ashamed  of  his  position. 
He  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  established  a  large  grocery 
in  Stepney  which  did  a  curious  mixed  business,  not 
always,  as  we  had  heard,  of  a  very  savoury  character, 
with  the  riverside  and  seafaring  people.  He  was  ship's 
chandler,  provision  merchant,  and,  if  rumour  spoke 
truly,  some  other  things  as  well.  Such  a  trade,  how- 
ever lucrative,  had  its  drawbacks,  as  was  evident  when, 
after  twenty  years  of  prosperity,  he  was  savagely 
assaulted  by  one  of  his  customers  and  left  for  dead, 
with  three  smashed  ribs  and  a  broken  leg,  which 
mended  so  badly  that  it  remained  for  ever  three  inches 
shorter  than  the  other.  This  incident  seemed,  not  un- 
naturally, to  disgust  him  with  his  surroundings,  for, 
after  the  trial,  in  which  his  assailant  was  condemned 
to  fifteen  years'  penal  servitude,  he  retired  from  his 
business  and  settled  in  a  lonely  part  of  the  North  of 
England,  whence,  until  that  morning,  we  had  never 
once  heard  of  him — not  even  at  the  death  of  my 
father,  who  was  his  only  brother. 

My  mother  read  his  letter  aloud  to  me :  "  If  your 
202 


THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GKOCER  203 

son  is  with  you,  Ellen,  and  if  he  is  as  stout  a  lad 
as  he  promised  for  when  last  I  heard  from  you,  then 
send  him  up  to  me  by  the  first  train  after  this  comes 
to  hand.  He  will  find  that  to  serve  me  will  pay  him 
better  than  the  engineering,  and  if  I  pass  away  (though, 
thank  God,  there  is  no  reason  to  complain  as  to  my 
health)  you  will  see  that  I  have  not  forgotten  my 
brother's  son.  Congleton  is  the  station,  and  then  a 
drive  of  four  miles  to  Greta  House,  where  I  am  now 
living.  I  will  send  a  trap  to  meet  the  seven  o'clock 
train,  for  it  is  the  only  one  which  stops  here.  Mind 
that  you  send  him,  Ellen,  for  I  have  very  "strong 
reasons  for  wishing  him  to  be  with  me.  Let  bygones 
be  bygones  if  there  has  been  anything  between  us  in 
the  past.  If  you  should  fail  me  now  you  will  live  to 
regret  it." 

We  were  seated  at  either  side  of  the  breakfast 
table,  looking  blankly  at  each  other  and  wondering 
what  this  might  mean,  when  there  came  a  ring  at  the 
bell,  and  the  maid  walked  in  with  a  telegram.  It  was 
from  Uncle  Stephen. 

"  On  no  account  let  John  get  out  at  Congleton," 
said  the  message.  "  He  will  find  trap  waiting  seven 
o'clock  evening  train  Stedding  Bridge,  one  station 
further  down  line.  Let  him  drive  not  me,  but  Garth 
Farm  House — six  miles.  There  will  receive  instruc- 
tions.   Do  not  fail ;  only  you  to  look  to." 

"  That  is  true  enough,"  said  my  mother.  "  As  far 
as  I  know,  your  uncle  has  not  a  friend  in  the  world, 
nor  has  he  ever  deserved  one.  He  has  always  been  a 
hard  man  in  his  dealings,  and  he  held  back  his  money 
from  your  father  at  a  time  when  a  few  pounds  would 


204  THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER 

have  saved  him  from  ruin.    Why  should  I  send  my 
only  son  to  serve  him  now  ? " 
.  But  my  own  inclinations  were  all  for  the  adventure. 

"  If  I  have  him  for  a  friend,  he  can  help  me  in  my 
profession,"  I  argued,  taking  my  mother  upon  her 
weakest  side. 

"  I  have  never  known  him  to  help  any  one  yet," 
said  she,  bitterly.  "  And  why  all  this  mystery  about 
getting  out  at  a  distant  station  and  driving  to  the 
wrong  address  ?  He  has  got  himself  into  some  trouble 
and  he  wishes  us  to  get  him  out  of  it.  When  he  has 
used  us  he  will  throw  us  aside  as  he  has  done  before. 
Your  father  might  have  been  living  now  if  he  had  only 
helped  him." 

But  at  last  my  arguments  prevailed,  for,  as  I 
pointed  out,  we  had  much  to  gain  and  little  to  lose, 
and  why  should  we,  the  poorest  members  of  a  family, 
go  out  of  our  way  to  offend  the  rich  one?  My  bag 
was  packed  and  my  cab  at  the  door,  when  there  came 
a  second  telegram. 

"  Good  shooting.  Let  John  bring  gun.  Eemember 
Stedding  Bridge,  not  Congleton."  And  so,  with  a  gun- 
case  added  to  my  luggage  and  some  surprise  at  my 
uncle's  insistence,  I  started  off  upon  my  adventure. 

The  journey  lies  over  the  main  Northern  Bail  way 
as  far  as  the  station  of  Carnfield,  where  one  changes 
for  the  little  branch  line  which  winds  over  the  fells. 
In  all  England  there  is  no  harsher  or  more  impressive 
scenery.  For  two  hours  I  passed  through  desolate 
rolling  plains,  rising  at  places  into  low,  stone-littered 
hills,  with  long,  straight  outcrops  of  jagged  rock 
showing  upon  their  surface.     Here  and  there  little 


THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER  205 

grey-roofed,  grey- walled  cottages  huddled  into  villages, 
but  for  many  miles  at  a  time  no  house  was  visible  nor 
any  sign  of  life  save  the  scattered  sheep  which  wandered 
over  the  mountain  sides.  It  was  a  depressing  country, 
and  my  heart  grew  heavier  and  heavier  as  I  neared 
my  journey's  end,  until  at  last  the  train  pulled  up  at 
the  little  village  of  S tedding  Bridge,  where  my  uncle 
had  told  me  to  alight.  A  single  ramshackle  trap, 
with  a  country  lout  to  drive  it,  was  waiting  at  the 
station. 

"  Is  this  Mr.  Stephen  Maple's  ? "  I  asked. 

The  fellow  looked  at  me  with  eyes  which  were  full 
of  suspicion.  "  What  is  your  name  ? "  he  asked, 
speaking  a  dialect  which  I  will  not  attempt  to  re- 
produce. 

"John  Maple/' 

"  Anything  to  prove  it  ?  * 

I  half  raised  my  hand,  for  my  temper  is  none  of 
the  best,  and  then  I  reflected  that  the  fellow  was 
probably  only  carrying  out  the  directions  of  my  uncle. 
For  answer  I  pointed  to  my  name  printed  upon  my 
gun-case. 

"Yes,  yes,  that  is  right.  It's  John  Maple,  sure 
enough ! "  said  he,  slowly  spelling  it  out.  "  Get  in, 
maister,  for  we  have  a  bit  of  a  drive  before  us." 

The  road,  white  and  shining,  like  all  the  roads  in 
that  limestone  country,  ran  in  long  sweeps  over  the 
fells,  with  low  walls  of  loose  stone  upon  either  side  of 
it.  The  huge  moors,  mottled  with  sheep  and  with 
boulders,  rolled  away  in  gradually  ascending  curves 
to  the  misty  sky-line.  In  one  place  a  fall  of  the  land 
gave  a  glimpse  of  a  grey  angle  of  distant  sea.    Bleak 


20G  THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER 

and  sad  and  stern  were  all  my  surroundings,  and  I 
felt,  under  their  influence,  that  this  curious  mission 
of  mine  was  a  more  serious  thing  than  it  had  appeared 
when  viewed  from  London.  This  sudden  call  for  help 
from  an  uncle  whom  I  had  never  seen,  and  of  whom 
I  had  heard  little  that  was  good,  the  urgency  of  it,  his 
reference  to  my  physical  powers,  the  excuse  by  which 
he  had  ensured  that  I  should  bring  a  weapon,  all 
hung  together  and  pointed  to  some  vague  but  sinister 
meaning.  Things  which  appeared  to  be  impossible  in 
Kensington  became  very  probable  upon  these  wild  and 
isolated  hillsides.  At  last,  oppressed  with  my  own 
dark  thoughts,  I  turned  to  my  companion  with  the 
intention  of  asking  some  questions  about  my  uncle, 
but  the  expression  upon  his  face  drove  the  idea  from 
my  head. 

He  was  not  looking  at  his  old,  undipped  chestnut 
horse,  nor  at  the  road  along  which  he  was  driving, 
but  his  face  was  turned  in  my  direction,  and  he  was 
staring  past  me  with  an  expression  of  curiosity  and, 
as  I  thought,  of  apprehension.  He  raised  the  whip 
to  lash  the  horse,  and  then  dropped  it  again,  as  if 
convinced  that  it  was  useless.  At  the  same  time, 
following  the  direction  of  his  gaze,  I  saw  what  it  was 
which  had  excited  him. 

A  man  was  running  across  the  moor.  He  ran 
clumsily,  stumbling  and  slipping  among  the  stones; 
but  the  road  curved,  and  it  was  easy  for  him  to  cut 
us  off.  As  we  came  up  to  the  spot  for  which  he  had 
been  making,  he  scrambled  over  the  stone  wall  and 
stood  waiting,  with  the  evening  sun  shining  on  his 
brown,  clean-shaven  face.    He  was  a  burly  fellow,  and 


THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER  207 

in  bad  condition,  for  he  stood  with  his  hand  on  his 
ribs,  panting  and  blowing  after  his  short  run.  As  we 
drove  up  I  saw  the  glint  of  earrings  in  his  ears. 

"  Say,  mate,  where  are  you  bound  for  ? "  he  asked, 
in  a  rough  but  good-humoured  fashion. 

"Farmer  Purcell's,  at  the  Garth  Farm,**  said  the 
driver. 

"Sorry  to  stop  you,"  cried  the  other,  standing 
aside ;  "  I  thought  as  I  would  hail  you  as  you  passed, 
for  if  so  be  as  you  had  been  going  my  way  I  should 
have  made  bold  to  ask  you  for  a  passage." 

His  excuse  was  an  absurd  one,  since  it  was  evident 
that  our  little  trap  was  as  full  as  it  could  be,  but  my 
driver  did  not  seem  disposed  to  argue.  He  drove  on 
without  a  word,  and,  looking  back,  I  could  see  the 
stranger  sitting  by  the  roadside  and  cramming  tobacco 
into  his  pipe. 

"A  sailor,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  maister.  We're  not  more  than  a  few  miles 
from  Morecambe  Bay,"  the  driver  remarked. 

"  You  seemed  frightened  of  him,"  I  observed. 

"Did  I?"  said  he,  drily;  and  then,  after  a  long 
pause,  "  Maybe  I  was."  As  to  his  reasons  for  fear,  I 
could  get  nothing  from  him,  and  though  I  asked  him 
many  questions  he  was  so  stupid,  or  else  so  clever, 
that  I  could  learn  nothing  from  his  replies.  I  observed, 
however,  that  from  time  to  time  he  swept  the  moors 
with  a  troubled  eye,  but  their  huge  brown  expanse 
was  unbroken  by  any  moving  figure.  At  last  in  a 
sort  of  cleft  in  the  hills  in  front  of  us  I  saw  a  long, 
low-lying  farm  building,  the  centre  of  all  those  scattered 
flocks. 


208  THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER 

"  Garth  Farm,"  said  my  driver.  "  There  is  Farmer 
Purcell  himself,"  he  added,  as  a  man  strolled  out  of 
the  porch  and  stood  waiting  for  our  arrival.  He 
advanced  as  I  descended  from  the  trap,  a  hard, 
weather-worn  fellow  with  light  blue  eyes,  and  hair 
and  beard  like  sun-bleached  grass.  In  his  expression 
I  read  the  same  surly  ill-will  which  I  had  already 
observed  in  my  driver.  Their  malevolence  could  not 
be  directed  towards  a  complete  stranger  like  myself, 
and  so  I  began  to  suspect  that  my  uncle  was  no  more 
popular  on  the  north-country  fells  than  he  had  been 
in  Stepney  Highway. 

"You're  to  stay  here  until  nightfall.  That's  Mr. 
Stephen  Maple's  wish,"  said  he,  curtly.  "You  can 
have  some  tea  and  bacon  if  you  like.  It's  the  best 
we  can  give  you." 

I  was  very  hungry,  and  accepted  the  hospitality 
in  spite  of  the  churlish  tone  in  which  it  was  offered. 
The  farmer's  wife  and  his  two  daughters  came  into 
the  sitting-room  during  the  meal,  and  I  was  aware  of 
a  certain  curiosity  with  which  they  regarded  me.  It 
may  have  been  that  a  young  man  was  a  rarity  in  this 
wilderness,  or  it  may  be  that  my  attempts  at  conver- 
sation won  their  goodwill,  but  they  all  three  showed 
a  kindliness  in  their  manner.  It  was  getting  dark,  so 
I  remarked  that  it  was  time  for  me  to  be  pushing  on 
to  Greta  House. 

"You've  made  up  your  mind  to  go,  then?"  said 
the  older  woman. 

"  Certainly.    I  have  come  all  the  way  from  London." 

"  There's  no  one  hindering  you  from  going  back 
there." 


THE  CLUB-FOOTED   GROCER  20$ 

"  But  I  have  come  to  see  Mr.  Maple,  my  uncle." 

"  Oh,  well,  no  one  can  stop  you  if  you  want  to  go 
on,"  said  the  woman,  and  became  silent  as  her  husband 
entered  the  room. 

With  every  fresh  incident  I  felt  that  I  was  moving 
in  an  atmosphere  of  mystery  and  peril,  and  yet  it  was 
all  so  intangible  and  so  vague  that  I  could  not  guess 
where  my  danger  lay.  I  should  have  asked  the  farmer's 
wife  point-blank,  but  her  surly  husband  seemed  to 
divine  the  sympathy  which  she  felt  for  me,  and  never 
again  left  us  together.  "It's  time  you  were  going, 
mister,"  said  he  at  last,  as  his  wife  lit  the  lamp  upon 
the  table. 

"  Is  the  trap  ready  ? " 

"  You'll  need  no  trap.    You'll  walk,"  said  he. 

"  How  shall  I  know  the  way  ?  " 

"  William  will  go  with  you." 

William  was  the  youth  who  had  driven  me  up 
from  the  station.  He  was  waiting  at  the  door,  and 
he  shouldered  my  gun-case  and  bag.  I  stayed  behind 
to  thank  the  farmer  for  his  hospitality,  but  he  would 
have  none  of  it.  "  I  ask  no  thanks  from  Mr.  Stephen 
Maple  nor  any  friend  of  his,"  said  he,  bluntly.  "I 
am  paid  for  what  I  do.  If  I  was  not  paid  I  would 
not  do  it.  Go  your  way,  young  man,  and  say  no 
more."  He  turned  rudely  on  his  heel  and  re-entered 
his  house,  slamming  the  door  behind  him. 

It  was  quite  dark  outside,  with  heavy  black  clouds 
drifting  slowly  across  the  sky.  Once  clear  of  the 
farm  inclosure  and  out  on  the  moor  I  should  have 
been  hopelessly  lost  if  it  had  not  been  for  my  guide, 
who  walked  in  front  of  me  along  narrow  sheep-tracks 


210  TEE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER 

which  were  quite  invisible  to  me.  Every  now  and 
then,  without  seeing  anything,  we  heard  the  clumsy 
scuffling  of  the  creatures  in  the  darkness.  At  first  my 
guide  walked  swiftly  and  carelessly,  but  gradually  his 
pace  slowed  down,  until  at  last  he  was  going  very 
slowly  and  stealthily,  like  one  who  walks  light-footed 
amid  imminent  menace.  This  vague,  inexplicable  sense 
of  danger  in  the  midst  of  the  loneliness  of  that  vast 
moor  was  more  daunting  than  any  evident  peril  could 
be,  and  I  had  begun  to  press  him  as  to  what  it  was 
that  he  feared,  when  suddenly  he  stopped  and  dragged 
me  down  among  some  gorse  bushes  which  lined  the 
path.  His  tug  at  my  coat  was  so  strenuous  and 
imperative  that  I  realized  that  the  danger  was  a 
pressing  one,  and  in  an  instant  I  was  squatting  down 
beside  him  as  still  as  the  bushes  which  shadowed  us. 
It  was  so  dark  there  that  I  could  not  even  see  the  lad 
beside  me. 

It  was  a  warm  night,  and  a  hot  wind  puffed  in  our 
faces.  Suddenly  in  this  wind  there  came  something 
homely  and  familiar — the  smell  of  burning  tobacco. 
And  then  a  face,  illuminated  by  the  glowing  bowl  of 
a  pipe,  came  floating  towards  us.  The  man  was  all 
in  shadow,  but  just  that  one  dim  halo  of  light  with 
the  face  which  filled  it,  brighter  below  and  shading 
away  into  darkness  above,  stood  out  against  the  uni~ 
versal  blackness.  A  thin,  hungry  face,  thickly  freckled 
with  yellow  over  the  cheek  bones,  blue,  watery  eyes, 
an  ill-nourished,  light-coloured  moustache,  a  peaked 
yachting  cap — that  was  all  that  I  saw.  He  passed 
us,  looking  vacantly  in  front  of  him,  and  we  heard  the 
steps  dying  away  along  the  path. 


THE   CLUB-FOOTED   GROCER  211 

"  Who  was  it  ? "  I  asked,  as  we  rose  to  our  feet. 

"  I  don't  know." 

The  fellow's  continual  profession  of  ignorance  made 
me  angry. 

"Why  should  you  hide  yourself,  then?"  I  asked, 
sharply. 

"  Because  Maister  Maple  told  me.  He  said  that  I 
were  to  meet  no  one.  If  I  met  any  one  I  should  get 
no  pay." 

"  You  met  that  sailor  on  the  road  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  I  think  he  was  one  of  them." 

u  One  of  whom  ?  ■ 

"  One  of  the  folk  that  have  come  on  the  fells. 
They  are  watchin'  Greta  House,  and  Maister  Maple  is 
afeard  of  them.  That's  why  he  wanted  us  to  keep 
clear  of  them,  and  that's  why  I've  been  a-trying  to 
dodge  'em." 

Here  was  something  definite  at  last.  Some  body 
of  men  were  threatening  my  uncle.  The  sailor  was 
one  of  them.  The  man  with  the  peaked  cap — pro- 
bably a  sailor  also — was  another.  I  bethought  me  of 
Stepney  Highway  and  of  the  murderous  assault  made 
upon  my  uncle  there.  Things  were  fitting  themselves 
into  a  connected  shape  in  my  mind  when  a  light 
twinkled  over  the  fell,  and  my  guide  informed  me  that 
it  was  Greta.  The  place  lay  in  a  dip  among  the  moors, 
so  that  one  was  very  near  it  before  one  saw  it.  A 
short  walk  brought  us  up  to  the  door. 

I  could  see  little  of  the  building  save  that  the  lamp 
which  shone  through  a  small  latticed  window  showed 
me  dimly  that  it  was  both  long  and  lofty.  The  low 
door  under  an  overhanging  lintel  was  loosely  fitted,  and 


212  THE  CLUB-FOOTED   GROCER 

light  was  bursting  out  on  each  side  of  it.  The  inmates 
of  this  lonely  house  appeared  to  be  keenly  on  their 
guard,  for  they  had  heard  our  footsteps,  and  we  were 
challenged  before  we  reached  the  door. 

"  Who  is  there  ? "  cried  a  deep-booming  voice,  and 
urgently,  "  Who  is  it,  I  say  ? " 

"It's  me,  Maister  Maple.  I  have  brought  the 
gentleman." 

There  was  a  sharp  click,  and  a  small  wooden 
shutter  flew  open  in  the  door.  The  gleam  of  a  lantern 
shone  upon  us  for  a  few  seconds.  Then  the  shutter 
closed  again ;  with  a  great  rasping  of  locks  and  clatter- 
ing of  bars,  the  door  was  opened,  and  I  saw  my  uncle 
standing  framed  in  that  vivid  yellow  square  cut  out  of 
the  darkness. 

He  was  a  small,  thick  man,  with  a  great  rounded, 
bald  head  and  one  thin  border  of  gingery  curls.  It  was 
a  fine  head,  the  head  of  a  thinker,  but  his  large  white 
face  was  heavy  and  commonplace,  with  a  broad,  loose- 
lipped  mouth  and  two  hanging  dewlaps  on  either  side 
of  it.  His  eyes  were  small  and  restless,  and  his  light- 
coloured  lashes  were  continually  moving.  My  mother 
had  said  once  that  they  reminded  her  of  the  legs  of  a 
woodlouse,  and  I  saw  at  the  first  glance  what  she 
meant.  I  heard  also  that  in  Stepney  he  had  learned 
the  language  of  his  customers,  and  I  blushed  for  our 
kinship  as  I  listened  to  his  villainous  accent.  "So, 
nephew,"  said  he,  holding  out  his  hand.  *  Come  in, 
come  in,  man,  quick,  and  don't  leave  the  door  open. 
Your  mother  said  you  were  grown  a  big  lad,  and,  my 
word,  she  'as  a  right  to  say  so.  'Ere's  a  'alf-crown  for 
you,  William,  and  you  can  go  back  again.    Put  the 


THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCEft  213 

tilings  down.  'Ere,  Enoch,  take  Mr.  John's  things,  and 
see  that  'is  supper  is  on  the  table." 

As  my  uncle,  after  fastening  the  door,  turned  to 
show  me  into  the  sitting-room,  I  became  aware  of  his 
most  striking  peculiarity.  The  injuries  which  he  had 
received  some  years  ago  had,  as  I  have  already  re- 
marked, left  one  leg  several  inches  shorter  than  the 
other.  To  atone  for  this  he  wore  one  of  those 
enormous  wooden  soles  to  his  boots  which  are  pre- 
scribed by  surgeons  in  such  cases.  He  walked  without 
a  limp,  but  his  tread  on  the  stone  flooring  made  a 
curious  clack-click,  clack-click,  as  the  wood  and  the 
leather  alternated.  Whenever  he  moved  it  was  to  the 
rhythm  of  this  singular  Castanet. 

The  great  kitchen,  with  its  huge  fireplace  and 
carved  settle  corners,  showed  that  this  dwelling  was 
an  oldtime  farmhouse.  On  one  side  of  the  room  a 
line  of  boxes  stood  all  corded  and  packed.  The 
furniture  was  scant  and  plain,  but  on  a  trestle-table  in 
the  centre  some  supper,  cold  meat,  bread,  and  a  jug  of 
beer  was  laid  for  me.  An  elderly  manservant,  as 
manifest  a  Cockney  as  his  master,  waited  upon  me, 
while  my  uncle,  sitting  in  a  corner,  asked  me  many 
questions  as  to  my  mother  and  myself.  When  my 
meal  was  •  finished  he  ordered  his  man  Enoch  to 
unpack  my  gun.  I  observed  that  two  other  guns,  old 
rusted  weapons,  were  leaning  against  the  wall  beside 
the  window. 

"  It's  the  window  I'm  afraid  of,"  said  my  uncle,  in 
the  deep,  reverberant  voice  which  contrasted  oddly 
with  his  plump  little  figure.  "  The  door's  safe  against 
anything  short  of  dynamite,  but  the  window's  a  terror. 


214  THE   CLUB-FOOTED   GROCER 

Hi !  hi ! "  he  yelled,  "  don't  walk  across  the  light ! 
You  can  duck  when  you  pass  the  lattice." 

"  For  fear  of  being  seen  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  For  fear  of  bein'  shot,  my  lad.  That's  the  trouble. 
Now,  come  an'  sit  beside  me  on  the  trestle  'ere,  and  I'll 
tell  you  all  about  it,  for  I  can  see  that  you  are  the 
right  sort  and  can  be  trusted." 

His  flattery  was  clumsy  and  halting,  and  it  was 
evident  that  he  was  very  eager  to  conciliate  me.  I  sat 
down  beside  him,  and  he  drew  a  folded  paper  from  his 
pocket.  It  was  a  Western  Morning  News,  and  the  date 
was  ten  days  before.  The  passage  over  which  he 
pressed  a  long,  black  nail  was  concerned  with  the 
release  from  Dartmoor  of  a  convict  named  Elias,  whose 
term  of  sentence  had  been  remitted  on  account  of 
his  defence  of  a  warder  who  had  been  attacked  in 
the  quarries.  The  whole  account  was  only  a  few 
lines  long. 

*  Who  is  he,  then  ?  "  I  asked 

My  uncle  cocked  his  distorted  foot  into  the  air. 
"  That's  'is  mark  ! "  said  he.  M  'E  was  doin'  time  for 
that.    Now  'e's  out  an'  after  me  again." 

"  But  why  should  he  be  after  you  ? " 

"  Because  'e  wants  to  kill  me.  Because  'e'll  never 
rest,  the  worrying  devil,  until  'e  'as  'ad  'is  revenge  on 
me.  It's  this  way,  nephew !  I've  no  secrets  from  you. 
'E  thinks  I've  wronged  'im.  For  argument's  sake  we'll 
suppose  I  'ave  wronged  'im.  And  now  'im  and  'is 
friends  are  after  me." 

"  Who  are  his  friends  ? " 

My  uncle's  boom  sank  suddenly  to  a  frightened 
whisper.     "  Sailors  !  "  said  he.     "  I  knew  they  would 


THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER  215 

come  when  I  saw  that  'ere  paper,  and  two  days  ago  I 
looked  through  that  window  and  three  of  them  was 
standin'  lookin'  at  the  'ouse.  It  was  after  that  that  I 
wrote  to  your  mother.  They've  marked  me  down,  and 
they're  waitin*  for  'im." 

"  But  why  not  send  for  the  police  ? " 

My  uncle's  eyes  avoided  mine. 

"  Police  are  no  use,"  said  he.  "  It's  you  that  can 
help  me." 

"What  can  I  do?" 

"I'll  tell  you.  I'm  going  to  move.  That's  what 
all  these  boxes  are  for.  Everything  will  soon  be 
packed  and  ready.  I  'ave  friends  at  Leeds,  and  I  shall 
be  safer  there.  Not  safe,  mind  you,  but  safer.  I  start 
to-morrow  evening,  and  if  you  will  stand  by  me  until 
then  I  will  make  it  worth  your  while.  There's  only 
Enoch  and  me  to  do  everything,  but  we  shall  'ave  it 
all  ready,  I  promise  you,  by  to-morrow  evening.  The 
cart  will  be  round  then,  and  you  and  me  and  Enoch 
and  the  boy  William  can  guard  the  things  as  far  as 
Congleton  station.  Did  you  see  anything  of  them  on 
the  fells  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  I;  "a  sailor  stopped  us  on  the 
way." 

"Ah,  I  knew  they  were  watching  us.  That  was 
why  I  asked  you  to  get  out  at  the  wrong  station  and 
to  drive  to  Purcell's  instead  of  comin'  'ere.  We  are 
blockaded — that's  the  word." 

"  And  there  was  another,"  said  I,  "  a  man  with  a 
pipe." 

".What  was  'e  like  ?  " 

"  Thin  face,  freckles,  a  peaked " 


216  THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER 

My  uncle  gave  a  hoarse  scream. 

"That's  'im!  that's  'im!  'e's  come!  God  be 
merciful  to  me,  a  sinner !  "  He  went  click-clacking 
about  the  room  with  his  great  foot  like  one  distracted. 
There  was  something  piteous  and  baby-like  in  that 
big  bald  head,  and  for  the  first  time  I  felt  a  gush  of 
pity  for  him. 

"  Come,  uncle,"  said  I,  "  you  are  living  in  a 
civilized  land.  There  is  a  law  that  will  bring  these 
gentry  to  order.  Let  me  drive  over  to  the  county 
police-station  to-morrow  morning  and  I'll  soon  set 
things  right." 

But  he  shook  his  head  at  me. 

"'E's  cunning  and  'e's  cruel,"  said  he.  "I  can't 
draw  a  breath  without  thinking  of  him,  cos  'e  buckled 
up  three  of  my  ribs.  'E'll  kill  me  this  time,  sure. 
There's  only  one  chance.  We  must  leave  what  we 
'ave  not  packed,  and  we  must  be  off  first  thing  to- 
morrow mornin'.     Great  God,  what's  that !  " 

A  tremendous  knock  upon  the  door  had  rever- 
berated through  the  house  and  then  another  and 
another.  An  iron  fist  seemed  to  be  beating  upon  it. 
My  uncle  collapsed  into  his  chair.  I  seized  a  gun  and 
ran  to  the  door. 

"Who's  there  ?  "  I  shouted. 

There  was  no  answer. 

I  opened  the  shutter  and  looked  out. 

No  one  was  there. 

And  then  suddenly  I  saw  that  a  long  slip  of  paper 
was  protruding  through  the  slit  of  the  door.  I  held  it 
to  the  light.  In  rude  but  vigorous  handwriting  the 
message  ran :— 


THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCEB  217 

"Put  them  out  on  the  doorstep  and  save  your 
skin." 

"  What  do  they  want  ? "  I  asked,  as  I  read  him  the 
message. 

"What  they'll  never  'ave!  No,  by  the  Lord, 
never !  "  he  cried,  with  a  fine  burst  of  spirit.  "  'Ere, 
Enoch!  Enoch!" 

The  old  fellow  came  running  to  the  call. 

"  Enoch,  I've  been  a  good  master  to  you  all  my 
life,  and  it's  your  turn  now.  Will  you  take  a  risk  for 
me?" 

I  thought  better  of  my  uncle  when  I  saw  how 
readily  the  man  consented.  Whomever  else  he  had 
wronged,  this  one  at  least  seemed  to  love  him. 

"  Put  your  cloak  on  and  your  'at,  Enoch,  and  out 
with  you  by  the  back  door.  You  know  the  way  across 
the  moor  to  the  Purcells'.  Tell  them  that  I  must  'ave 
the  cart  first  thing  in  the  mornin',  and  that  Purcell 
must  come  with  the  shepherd  as  well.  We  must  get 
clear  of  this  or  we  are  done.  Eirst  thing  in  the 
mornin',  Enoch,  and  ten  pound  for  the  job.  Keep 
the  black  cloak  on  and  move  slow,  and  they  will 
never  see  you.  We'll  keep  the  'ouse  till  you  come 
back." 

It  was  a  job  for  a  brave  man  to  venture  out  into 
the  vague  and  invisible  dangers  of  the  fell,  but  the  old 
servant  took  it  as  the  most  ordinary  of  messages. 
Picking  his  long,  black  cloak  and  his  soft  hat  from  the 
hook  behind  the  door,  he  was  ready  on  the  instant. 
We  extinguished  the  small  lamp  in  the  back  passage, 
softly  unbarred  the  back  door,  slipped  him  out,  and 
barred  it  up  again.     Looking  through  the  small  hall 


218  THE   CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER 

window,  I  saw  his  black  garments  merge  instantly  into 
the  night. 

"It  is  but  a  few  hours  before  the  light  comes, 
nephew,"  said  my  uncle,  after  he  had  tried  all  the 
bolts  and  bars.  "  You  shall  never  regret  this  night's 
work.  If  we  come  through  safely  it  will  be  the 
making  of  you.  Stand  by  me  till  mornin',  and  I  stand 
by  you  while  there's  breath  in  my  body.  The  cart 
will  be  'ere  by  five.  What  isn't  ready  we  can  afford 
to  leave  be'ind.  We've  only  to  load  up  and  make  for 
the  early  train  at  Congleton." 

"Will  they  let  us  pass?" 

"  In  broad  daylight  they  dare  not  stop  us.  There 
will  be  six  of  us,  if  they  all  come,  and  three  guns. 
We  can  fight  our  way  through.  Where  can  they  get 
guns,  common,  wandering  seamen?  A  pistol  or  two 
at  the  most.  If  we  can  keep  them  out  for  a  few  hours 
we  are  safe.  Enoch  must  be  'alfway  to  Purcell's  by 
now." 

"  But  what  do  these  sailors  want  ? "  I  repeated. 
■  You  say  yourself  that  you  wronged  them." 

A  look  of  mulish  obstinacy  came  over  his  large, 
white  face. 

"  Don't  ask  questions,  nephew,  and  just  do  what  I 
ask  you,"  said  he.  "Enoch  won't  come  back.  'E'll 
just  bide  there  and  come  with  the  cart.  'Ark,  what  is 
that?" 

A  distant  cry  rang  from  out  of  the  darkness,  and 
then  another  one,  short  and  sharp  like  the  wail  of  the 
curlew. 

"  It's  Enoch ! "  said  my  uncle,  gripping  my  arm. 
"  They're  killin'  poor  old  Enoch." 


THE   CLUB-FOOTED   GROCER  219 

The  cry  came  again,  much  nearer,  and  I  heard 
the  sound  of  hurrying  step3  and  a  shrill  call  for 
help. 

"  They  are  after  'im !  n  cried  my  uncle,  rushing  to 
the  front  door.  He  picked  up  the  lantern  and  flashed 
it  through  the  little  shutter.  Up  the  yellow  funnel  of 
light  a  man  was  running  frantically,  his  head  bowed 
and  a  black  cloak  fluttering  behind  him.  The  moor 
seemed  to  be  alive  with  dim  pursuers. 

"The  bolt!  The  bolt!"  gasped  my  uncle,  He 
pushed  it  back  whilst  I  turned  the  key,  and  we  swung 
the  door  open  to  admit  the  fugitive.  He  dashed  in 
and  turned  at  once  with  a  long  yell  of  triumph. 
"  Come  on,  lads !  Tumble  up,  all  hands,  tumble  up ! 
Smartly  there,  all  of  you  !  " 

It  was  so  quickly  and  neatly  done  that  we  were 
taken  by  storm  before  we  knew  that  we  were  attacked. 
The  passage  was  full  of  rushing  sailors.  I  slipped  out 
of  the  clutch  of  one  and  ran  for  my  gun,  but  it  was 
only  to  crash  down  on  to  the  stone  floor  an  instant 
later  with  two  of  them  holding  on  to  me.  They  were 
so  deft  and  quick  that  my  hands  were  lashed  together 
even  while  I  struggled,  and  I  was  dragged  into  the 
settle  corner,  unhurt  but  very  sore  in  spirit  at  the 
cunning  with  which  our  defences  had  been  forced  and 
the  ease  with  which  we  had  been  overcome.  They  had 
not  even  troubled  to  bind  my  uncle,  but  he  had  been 
pushed  into  his  chair,  and  the  guns  had  been  taken 
away.  He  sat  with  a  very  white  face,  his  homely 
figure  and  absurd  row  of  curls  looking  curiously  out  of 
place  among  the  wild  figures  who  surrounded  him. 

There  were  six  of  them,  all  evidently  sailors.     One 


220  THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER 

I  recognized  as  the  man  with  the  earrings  whom  I  had 
already  met  upon  the  road  that  evening.  They  were 
all  fine,  weather-bronzed  bewhiskered  fellows.  In  the 
midst  of  them,  leaning  against  the  table,  was  the 
freckled  man  who  had  passed  me  on  the  moor.  The 
great  black  cloak  which  poor  Enoch  had  taken  out 
with  him  was  still  hanging  from  his  shoulders.  He 
was  of  a  very  different  type  from  the  others — crafty, 
cruel,  dangerous,  with  sly,  thoughtful  eyes  which 
gloated  over  my  uncle.  They  suddenly  turned  them- 
selves upon  me  and  I  never  knew  how  one's  skin  can 
creep  at  a  man's  glance  before. 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  he  asked.  "  Speak  out,  or  we'll 
find  a  way  to  make  you." 

"  I  am  Mr.  Stephen  Maple's  nephew,  come  to  visit 
him." 

*  You  are,  are  you  ?  Well,  I  wish  you  joy  of  your 
uncle  and  of  your  visit  too.  Quick's  the  word,  lads, 
for  we  must  be  aboard  before  morning.  What  shall  we 
do  with  the  old  'un  ?  * 

*     "  Trice  him  up  Yankee  fashion  and  give  him  six 
dozen,"  said  one  of  the  seamen. 

"  D'you  hear,  you  cursed  4Cockney  thief  ?  We'll 
beat  the  life  out  of  you  if  you  don't  give  back  what 
you've  stolen.  Where  are  they  ?  I  know  you  never 
parted  with  them." 

My  uncle  pursed  up  his  lips  and  shook  his 
head,  with  a  face  in  which  his  fear  and  his  obstinacy 
contended. 

" Won't  tell,  won't  you  4  We'll  see  about  that! 
Get  him  ready,  Jim ! " 

One  of  the  seamen  seized  my  uncle,  and  pulled  his 


THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER  221 

coat  and  shirt  over  his  shoulders.  He  sat  lumped  in 
his  chair,  his  body  all  creased  into  white  rolls  which 
shivered  with  cold  and  with  terror. 

"  Up  with  him  to  those  hooks." 

There  were  rows  of  them  along  the  walls  where  the 
smoked  meat  used  to  be  hung.  The  seamen  tied  my 
uncle  by  the  wrists  to  two  of  these.  Then  one  of  them 
undid  his  leather  belt. 

"  The  buckle  end,  Jim,"  said  the  captain.  "  Give 
him  the  buckle." 

"  You  cowards,"  I  cried ;  "  to  beat  an  old  man ! " 

"  We'll  beat  a  young  one  next,"  said  he,  with  a 
malevolent  glance  at  my  corner.  "Now,  Jim,  cut  a 
wad  out  of  him ! " 

"Give  him  one  more  chance!"  cried  one  of  the 
seamen. 

"  Aye,  aye,"  growled  one  or  two  others.  "  Give  the 
swab  a  chance !  " 

"If  you  turn  soft,  you  may  give  them  up  for 
ever,"  said  the  captain.  "  One  thing  or  the  other ! 
You  must  lash  it  out  of  him;  or  you  may  give  up 
what  you  took  such  pains  to  win  and  what  would 
make  you  gentlemen  for  life — every  man  of  you. 
There's  nothing  else  for  it.     Which  shall  it  be  ? " 

"  Let  him  have  it,"  they  cried,  savagely. 

"  Then  stand  clear !  "  The  buckle  of  the  man's  belt 
whined  savagely  as  he  whirled  it  over  his  shoulder. 

But  my  uncle  cried  out  before  the  blow  fell. 

"  I  can't  stand  it ! "  he  cried.     "  Let  me  down !  " 

"  Where  are  they,  then  ? " 

"  I'll  show  you  if  you'll  let  me  down." 

They  cast  off  the  handkerchiefs  and  he  pulled  hia 


222  THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER 

coat  over  his  fat,  round  shoulders.  The  seamen  stood 
round  him,  the  most  intense  curiosity  and  excitement 
upon  their  swarthy  faces. 

"  No  gammon ! "  cried  the  man  with  the  freckles. 
"  We'll  kill  you  joint  by  joint  if  you  try  to  fool  us. 
Now  then !    Where  are  they  ? " 

"  In  my  bedroom." 

"Where  is  that?" 

"  The  room  above." 

"Whereabouts?" 

"  In  the  corner  of  the  oak  ark  by  the  bed." 

The  seamen  all  rushed  to  the  stair,  but  the  captain 
called  them  back. 

"  We  don't  leave  this  cunning  old  fox  behind  us.  Ha, 
your  face  drops  at  that,  does  it  ?  By  the  Lord,  I  believe 
you  are  trying  to  slip  your  anchor.  Here,  lads,  make 
him  fast  and  take  him  along ! " 

With  a  confused  trampling  of  feet  they  rushed  up 
the  stairs,  dragging  my  uncle  in  the  midst  of  them. 
For  an  instant  I  was  alone.  My  hands  were  tied  but 
not  my  feet.  If  I  could  find  my  way  across  the  moor 
I  might  rouse  the  police  and  intercept  these  rascals 
before  they  could  reach  the  sea.  For  a  moment  I  hesi- 
tated as  to  whether  I  should  leave  my  uncle  alone  in 
such  a  plight.  But  I  should  be  of  more  service  to  him 
— or,  at  the  worst,  to  his  property — if  I  went  than  if  I 
stayed.  I  rushed  to  the  hall  door,  and  as  I  reached  it 
I  heard  a  yell  above  my  head,  a  shattering,  splintering 
noise,  and  then  amid  a  chorus  of  shouts  a  huge  weight 
fell  with  a  horrible  thud  at  my  very  feet.  Never  while 
I  live  will  that  squelching  thud  pass  out  of  my  ears. 
And  there,  just  in  front  of  me,  in  the  lane  of  light  cast 


THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER  223 

by  the  open  door,  lay  my  unhappy  uncle,  his  bald  head 
twisted  on  to  one  shoulder,  like  the  wrung  neck  of  a 
chicken.  It  needed  but  a  glance  to  see  that  his  spine 
was  broken  and  that  he  was  dead. 

The  gang  of  seamen  had  rushed  downstairs  so 
quickly  that  they  were  clustered  at  the  door  and  crowd- 
ing all  round  me  almost  as  soon  as  I  had  realized  what 
had  occurred. 

"  It's  no  doing  of  ours,  mate,"  said  one  of  them  to 
me.  "  He  hove  himself  through  the  window,  and  that's 
the  truth.     Don't  you  put  it  down  to  us." 

"  He  thought  he  could  get  to  windward  of  us  if  once 
he  was  out  in  the  dark,  you  see,"  said  another.  fl  But 
he  came  head  foremost  and  broke  his  bloomin'  neck." 

"  And  a  blessed  good  job  too ! "  cried  the  chief,  with 
a  savage  oath.  "  I'd  have  done  it  for  him  if  he  hadn't 
took  the  lead.  Don't  make  any  mistake,  my  lads,  this 
is  murder,  and  we're  all  in  it,  together.  There's  only 
one  way  out  of  it,  and  that  is  to  hang  together,  unless, 
as  the  saying  goes,  you  mean  to  hang  apart.  There's 
only  one  witness " 

He  looked  at  me  with  his  malicious  little  eyes,  and 
I  saw  that  he  had  something  that  gleamed — either  a 
knife  or  a  revolver — in  the  breast  of  his  pea-jacket. 
Two  of  the  men  slipped  between  us. 

"  Stow  that,  Captain  Elias,"  said  one  of  them.  "  If 
this  old  man  met  his  end  it  is  through  no  fault  of  ours. 
The  worst  we  ever  meant  him  was  to  take  some  of  the 
skin  off  his  back.  But  as  to  this  young  fellow,  we 
have  no  quarrel  with  him " 

*  You  fool,  you  may  have  no  quarrel  with  him,  but 
he  has  his  quarrel  with  you.     He'll  swear  your  lifo 


224  THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GKOCER 

away  if  you  don't  silence  his  tongue.  It's  his  life  or 
ours,  and  don't  you  make  any  mistake." 

"  Aye,  aye,  the  skipper  has  the  longest  head  of  any 
of  us.     Better  do  what  he  tells  you,"  cried  another. 

But  my  champion,  who  was  the  fellow  with  the 
earrings,  covered  me  with  his  own  broad  chest  and 
swore  roundly  that  no  one  should  lay  a  finger  on  me. 
The  others  were  equally  divided,  and  my  fate  might 
have  been  the  cause  of  a  quarrel  between  them  when 
suddenly  the  captain  gave  a  cry  of  delight  and  amaze- 
ment which  was  taken  up  by  the  whole  gang.  I 
followed  their  eyes  and  outstretched  fingers,  and  this 
was  what  I  saw. 

My  uncle  was  lying  with  his  legs  outstretched,  and 
the  club  foot  was  that  which  was  furthest  from  us. 
All  round  this  foot  a  dozen  brilliant  objects  were 
twinkling  and  flashing  in  the  yellow  light  which 
streamed  from  the  open  door.  The  captain  caught  up 
the  lantern  and  held  it  to  the  place.  The  huge  sole  of 
his  boot  had  been  shattered  in  the  fall,  and  it  was 
clear  now  that  it  had  been  a  hollow  box  in  which  he 
stowed  his  valuables,  for  the  path  was  all  sprinkled 
with  precious  stones.  Three  which  I  saw  were  of  an 
unusual  size,  and  as  many  as  forty,  I  should  think,  of 
fair  value.  The  seamen  had  cast  themselves  down  and 
were  greedily  gathering  them  up,  when  my  friend  with 
the  earrings  plucked  me  by  the  sleeve. 

"Here's  your  chance,  mate,"  he  whispered.  "Off 
you  go  before  worse  comes  of  it." 

It  was  a  timely  hint,  and  it  did  not  take  me  long 
to  act  upon  it.  A  few  cautious  steps  and  I  had  passed 
unobserved  beyond  the  circle  of  light.    Then  I  set  off 


THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER  225 

running,  falling  and  rising  and  falling  again,  for  no  one 
who  has  not  tried  it  can  tell  how  hard  it  is  to  run  over 
uneven  ground  with  hands  which  are  fastened  together. 
I  ran  and  ran,  until  for  want  of  breath  I  could  no  longer 
put  one  foot  before  the  other.  But  I  need  not  have 
hurried  so,  for  when  I  had  gone  a  long  way  I  stopped 
at  last  to  breathe,  and,  looking  back,  I  could  still  see 
the  gleam  of  the  lantern  far  away,  and  tha  outline  of 
the  seamen  who  squatted  round  it.  Then  at  last  this 
single  point  of  light  went  suddenly  out,  and  the  whole 
great  moor  was  left  in  the  thickest  darkness. 

So  deftly  was  I  tied,  that  it  took  me  a  long  half-hour 
and  a  broken  tooth  before  I  got  my  hands  free.  My 
idea  was  to  make  my  way  across  to  the  Purcells'  farm, 
but  north  was  the  same  as  south  under  that  pitchy  sky, 
and  for  hours  I  wandered  among  the  rustling,  scuttling 
sheep  without  any  certainty  as  to  where  I  was  going. 
When  at  last  there  came  a  glimmer  in  the  east,  and  the 
undulating  fells,  grey  with  the  morning  mist,  rolled 
once  more  to  the  horizon,  I  recognized  that  I  was  close 
by  Purcell's  farm,  and  there  a  little  in  front  of  me  I 
was  startled  to  see  another  man  walking  in  the  same 
direction.  At  first  I  approached  him  warily,  but  before 
I  overtook  him  I  knew  by  the  bent  back  and  tottering 
step  that  it  was  Enoch,  the  old  servant,  and  right  glad 
I  was  to  see  that  he  was  living.  He  had  been  knocked 
down,  beaten,  and  his  cloak  and  hat  taken  away  by 
these  ruffians,  and  all  night  he  had  wandered  in  the 
darkness,  like  myself,  in  search  of  help.  He  burst  into 
tears  when  I  told  him  of  his  master's  death,  and  sat 
hiccoughing  with  the  hard,  dry  sobs  of  an  old  man 
among  the  stones  upon  the  moor. 

Q 


226  THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER 

"It's  the  men  of  the  Black  Mogul"  he  said.  "Yes, 
yes,  I  knew  that  they  would  be  the  end  of  'im." 

"Who  are  they?"  I  asked. 

"  Well,  well,  you  are  one  of  'is  own  folk,"  said  he. 
"  'E  'as  passed  away ;  yes,  yes,  it  is  all  over  and  done. 
I  can  tell  you  about  it,  no  man  better,  but  mum's  the 
word  with  old  Enoch  unless  master  wants  'im  to  speak. 
But  his  own  nephew  who  came  to  'elp  'im  in  the  hour 
of  need — yes,  yes,  Mister  John,  you  ought  to  know. 

"  It  was  like  this,  sir.  Your  uncle  'ad  'is  grocer's 
business  at  Stepney,  but  'e  'ad  another  business  also. 
'E  would  buy  as  well  as  sell,  and  when  'e  bought  'e 
never  asked  no  questions  where  the  stuff  came  from. 
Why  should  'e  ?  It  wasn't  no  business  of  'is,  was  it  ? 
If  folk  brought  him  a  stone  or  a  silver  plate,  what  was 
it  to  'im  where  they  got  it  ?  That's  good  sense,  and  it 
ought  to  be  good  law,  as  I  'old.  Any'ow,  it  was  good 
enough  for  us  at  Stepney. 

"  Well,  there  was  a  steamer  came  from  South  Africa 
what  foundered  at  sea.  At  least,  they  say  so,  and 
Lloyd's  paid  the  money.  She  'ad  some  very  fine 
diamonds  invoiced  as  being  aboard  of  'er.  Soon  after 
there  came  the  brig  Black  Mogul  into  the  port  o'  London, 
with  'er  papers  all  right  as  'avin'  cleared  from  Port 
Elizabeth  with  a  cargo  of  'ides.  The  captain,  which  'is 
name  was  Elias,  'e  came  to  see  the  master,  and  what 
d'you  think  that  'e  'ad  to  sell  ?  Why,  sir,  as  I'm  a 
livin'  sinner  'e  'ad  a  packet  of  diamonds  for  all  the 
world  just  the  same  as  what  was  lost  out  o'  that  there 
African  steamer.  'Ow  did  'e  get  them  ?  I  don't  know. 
Master  didn't  know.  'E  didn't  seek  to  know  either. 
The  captain  'e  was  anxious  for  reasons  of  'is  own  to  get 


THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GROCER  227 

them  safe,  so  'e  gave  them  to  master,  same  as  you 
might  put  a  thing  in  a  bank.  But  master  'e'd  'ad  time 
to  get  fond  of  them,  and  *e  wasn't  over  satisfied  as  to 
where  the  Black  Mogul  'ad  been  tradin',  or  where  her 
captain  'ad  got  the  stones,  so  when  *e  come  back  for 
them  the  master  'e  said  as  'e  thought  they  were  best  in 
'is  own  'ands.  Mind  I  don't  'old  with  it  myself,  but 
that  was  what  master  said  to  Captain  Elias  in  the  little 
back  parlour  at  Stepney.  That  was  'ow  'e  got  'is  leg 
broke  and  three  of  his  ribs. 

"  So  the  captain  got  jugged  for  that,  and  the  master, 
when  'e  was  able  to  get  about,  thought  that  'e  would 
'ave  peace  for  fifteen  years,  and  'e  came  away  from 
London  because  'e  was  afraid  of  the  sailor  men ;  but,  at 
the  end  of  five  years,  the  captain  was  out  and  after  'im, 
with  as  many  of  'is  crew  as  'e  could  gather.  Send  for 
the  perlice,  you  says !  Well,  there  are  two  sides  to 
that,  and  the  master  'e  wasn't  much  more  fond  of  the 
perlice  than  Elias  was.  But  they  fair  'emmed  master 
in,  as  you  'ave  seen  for  yourself,  and  they  bested  'im  at 
last,  and  the  loneliness  that  'e  thought  would  be  'is 
safety  'as  proved  'is  ruin.  Well,  well,  'e  was  'ard  to 
many,  but  a  good  master  to  me,  and  it's  long  before  I 
come  on  such  another." 

One  word  in  conclusion.  A  strange  cutter,  which 
had  been  hanging  about  the  coast,  was  seen  to  beat 
down  the  Irish  Sea  that  morning,  and  it  is  conjectured 
that  Elias  and  his  men  were  on  board  of  it.  At  any 
rate,  nothing  has  been  heard  of  them  since.  It  was 
shown  at  the  inquest  that  my  uncle  had  lived  in  a 
sordid  fashion  for  years,  and  he  left  little  behind  him. 
The  mere  knowledge  that  he  possessed  this  treasure, 


228  THE  CLUB-FOOTED  GEOCER 

which  he  carried  about  with  him  in  so  extraordinary  a 
fashion,  had  appeared  to  be  the  joy  of  his  life,  and  he 
had  never,  as  far  as  we  could  learn,  tried  to  realize  any 
of  his  diamonds.  So  his  disreputable  name  when 
living  was  not  atoned  for  by  any  posthumous  bene- 
volence, and  the  family,  equally  scandalized  by  his  life 
and  by  his  death,  have  finally  buried  all  memory  of  the 
club-footed  grocer  of  Stepney. 


THE   SEALED  ROOM 

A  solicitor  of  an  active  habit  and  athletic  tastes  who 
is  compelled  by  his  hopes  of  business  to  remain  within 
the  four  walls  of  his  office  from  ten  till  five  must  take 
what  exercise  he  can  in  the  evenings.  Hence  it  was 
that  I  was  in  the  habit  of  indulging  in  very  long 
nocturnal  excursions,  in  which  I  sought  the  heights 
of  Hampstead  and  Highgate  in  order  to  cleanse  my 
system  from  the  impure  air  of  Abchurch  Lane.  It  was 
in  the  course  of  one  of  these  aimless  rambles  that 
I  first  met  Felix  Stanniford,  and  so  led  up  to  what 
has  been  the  most  extraordinary  adventure  of  my 
lifetime. 

One  evening — it  was  in  April  or  early  May  of  the 
year  1894 — I  made  my  way  to  the  extreme  northern 
fringe  of  London,  and  was  walking  down  one  of  those 
fine  avenues  of  high  brick  villas  which  the  huge  city 
is  for  ever  pushing  farther  and  farther  out  into  the 
country.  It  was  a  fine,  clear  spring  night,  the  moon 
was  shining  out  of  an  unclouded  sky,  and  I,  having 
already  left  many  miles  behind  me,  was  inclined  to 
walk  slowly  and  look  about  me.  In  this  contem- 
plative mood,  my  attention  was  arrested  by  one  of 
the  houses  which  I  was  passing. 

It  was  a  very  large  building,  standing  in  its  own 
229 


230  THE  SEALED   KOOM 

grounds,  a  little  back  from  the  road.  It  was  modern 
in  appearance,  and  yet  it  was  far  less  so  than  its 
neighbours,  all  of  which  were  crudely  and  painfully 
new.  Their  symmetrical  line  was  broken  by  the  gap 
caused  by  the  laurel-studded  lawn,  with  the  great, 
dark,  gloomy  house  looming  at  the  back  of  it. 
Evidently  it  had  been  the  country  retreat  of  some 
wealthy  merchant,  built  perhaps  when  the  nearest 
street  was  a  mile  off,  and  now  gradually  overtaken  and 
surrounded  by  the  red  brick  tentacles  of  the  London 
octopus.  The  next  stage,  I  reflected,  would  be  its 
digestion  and  absorption,  so  that  the  cheap  builder 
might  rear  a  dozen  eighty-pound-a-year  villas  upon 
the  garden  frontage.  And  then,  as  all  this  passed 
vaguely  through  my  mind,  an  incident  occurred  which 
brought  my  thoughts  into  quite  another  channel. 

A  four-wheeled  cab,  that  opprobrium  of  London, 
was  coming  jolting  and  creaking  in  one  direction, 
while  in  the  other  there  was  a  yellow  glare  from  the 
lamp  of  a  cyclist.  They  were  the  only  moving  objects 
in  the  whole  long,  moonlit  road,  and  yet  they  crashed 
into  each  other  with  that  malignant  accuracy  which 
brings  two  ocean  liners  together  in  the  broad  waste  of 
the  Atlantic.  It  was  the  cyclist's  fault.  He  tried  to 
cross  in  front  of  the  cab,  miscalculated  his  distance, 
and  was  knocked  sprawling  by  the  horse's  shoulder. 
He  rose,  snarling  ;  the  cabman  swore  back  at  him,  and 
then,  realizing  that  his  number  had  not  yet  been  taken, 
lashed  his  horse  and  lumbered  off.  The  cyclist  caught 
at  the  handles  of  his  prostrate  machine,  and  then 
suddenly  sat  down  with  a  groan.  "  Oh,  Lord  ! "  he 
said. 


THE  SEALED   ROOM  231 

I  ran  across  the  road  to  his  side.  "  Any  harm 
done  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  It's  my  ankle,"  said  he.  "  Only  a  twist,  I  think ; 
but  it's  pretty  painful.  Just  give  me  your  hand,  will 
you  ? " 

He  lay  in  the  yellow  circle  of  the  cycle  lamp, 
and  I  noted  as  I  helped  him  to  his  feet  that  he  was 
a  gentlemanly  young  fellow,  with  a  slight  dark  mous- 
tache and  large,  brown  eyes,  sensitive  and  nervous  in 
appearance,  with  indications  of  weak  health  upon  his 
sunken  cheeks.  Work  or  worry  had  left  its  traces 
upon  his  thin,  yellow  face.  He  stood  up  when  I  pulled 
his  hand,  but  he  held  one  foot  in  the  air,  and  he  groaned 
as  he  moved  it. 

"  I  can't  put  it  to  the  ground,"  said  he. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ? " 

H  Here !  "  he  nodded  his  head  towards  the  big,  dark 
house  in  the  garden.  "  I  was  cutting  across  to  the 
gate  when  that  confounded  cab  ran  into  me.  Could 
you  help  me  so  far  ?  " 

It  was  easily  done.  I  put  his  cycle  inside  the  gate, 
and  then  I  supported  him  down  the  drive,  and  up  the 
steps  to  the  hall  door.  There  was  not  a  light  any- 
where, and  the  place  was  as  black  and  silent  as  if  no 
one  had  ever  lived  in  it. 

"  That  will  do.  Thank  you  very  much,"  said  he, 
fumbling  with  his  key  in  the  lock. 

.  "  No,  you  must  allow  me  to  see  you  safe." 

He  made  some  feeble,  petulant  protest,  and  then 
realized  that  he  could  really  do  nothing  without  me. 
The  door  had  opened  into  a  pitch-dark  hall.  He 
lurched  forward,  with  my  hand  still  on  his  arm. 


232  THE  SEALED  ROOM 

*  This  door  to  the  right,"  said  he,  feeling  about  in 
the  darkness. 

I  opened  the  door,  and  at  the  same  moment  he 
managed  to  strike  a  light.  There  was  a  lamp  upon  the 
table,  and  we  lit  it  between  us.  "  Now,  I'm  all  right. 
You  can  leave  me  now !  Good-bye ! "  said  he,  and 
with  the  words  he  sat  down  in  the  arm-chair  and 
fainted  dead  away. 

It  was  a  queer  position  for  me.  The  fellow  looked 
so  ghastly,  that  really  I  was  not  sure  that  he  was  not 
dead.  Presently  his  lips  quivered  and  his  breast 
heaved,  but  his  eyes  were  two  white  slits  and  his 
colour  was  horrible.  The  responsibility  was  more 
than  I  could  stand.  I  pulled  at  the  bell-rope,  and 
heard  the  bell  ringing  furiously  far  away.  But  no 
one  came  in  response.  The  bell  tinkled  away  into 
silence,  which  no  murmur  or  movement  came  to  break. 
I  waited,  and  rang  again,  with  the  same  result. 
There  must  be  some  one  about.  This  young  gentle- 
man could  not  live  all  alone  in  that  huge  house.  His 
people  ought  to  know  of  his  condition.  If  they  would 
not  answer  the  bell,  I  must  hunt  them  out  myself. 
I  seized  the  lamp  and  rushed  from  the  room. 

What  I  saw  outside  amazed  me.  The  hall  was 
empty.  The  stairs  were  bare,  and  yellow  with  dust. 
There  were  three  doors  opening  into  spacious  rooms, 
and  each  was  uncarpeted  and  undraped,  save  for 
the  grey  webs  which  drooped  from  the  cornice,  and 
rdsettes  of  lichen  which  had  formed  upon  the  walls. 
My  feet  reverberated  in  those  empty  and  silent 
chambers.  Then  I  wandered  on  down  the  passage, 
with  the  idea  that  the  kitchens,  at  least,  might  be 


THE  SEALED  ROOM  233 

tenanted.  Some  caretaker  might  lurk  in  some  secluded 
room.  No,  they  were  all  equally  desolate.  Despair- 
ing of  finding  any  help,  I  ran  down  another  corridor, 
and  came  on  something  which  surprised  me  more  than 
ever. 

The  passage  ended  in  a  large,  brown  door,  and  the 
door  had  a  seal  of  red  wax  the  size  of  a  five -shilling 
piece  over  the  keyhole.  This  seal  gave  me  the 
impression  of  having  been  there  for  a  long  time,  for 
it  was  dusty  and  discoloured.  I  was  still  staring  at 
it,  and  wondering  what  that  door  might  conceal,  when 
I  heard  a  voice  calling  behind  me,  and,  running  back, 
found  my  young  man  sitting  up  in  his  chair  and  very 
much  astonished  at  finding  himself  in  darkness. 

"  Why  on  earth  did  you  take  the  lamp  away  ?  "  ho 
asked. 

"  I  was  looking  for  assistance." 

"  You  might  look  for  some  time,"  said  he.  "  I  am 
alone  in  the  house." 

"  Awkward  if  you  get  an  illness." 

"  It  was  foolish  of  me  to  faint.  I  inherit  a  weak 
heart  from  my  mother,  and  pain  or  emotion  has  that 
effect  upon  me.  It  will  carry  me  off  some  day,  as  it 
did  her.    You're  not  a  doctor,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,  a  lawyer.     Frank  Alder  is  my  name." 

"  Mine  is  Felix  Stanniford.  Funny  that  I  should 
meet  a  lawyer,  for  my  friend,  Mr.  Perceval,  was  saying 
that  we  should  need  one  soon." 

"  Very  happy,  I  am  sure." 

"  Well,  that  will  depend  upon  him,  you  know.  Did 
you  say  that  you  had  run  with  that  lamp  all  over  the 
ground  floor  ? " 


234  THE  SEALED   ROOM 

"Yes." 

"All  over  it?"  he  asked,  with  emphasis,  and  he 
looked  at  me  very  hard. 

"  I  think  so.  I  kept  on  hoping  that  I  should  find 
someone." 

"  Did  you  enter  all  the  rooms  ? "  he  asked,  with 
the  same  intent  gaze. 

"Well,  all  that  I  could  enter." 

"Oh,  then  you  did  notice  it!"  said  he,  and  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
makes  the  best  of  a  bad  job. 

"  Notice  what  ? " 

"  Why,  the  door  with  the  seal  on  it." 

"Yes,  I  did." 

"Weren't  you  curious  to  know  what  was  in 
it?" 

"  Well,  it  did  strike  me  as  unusual." 

"Do  you  think  you  could  go  on  living  alone  in 
this  house,  year  after  year,  just  longing  all  the  time 
to  know  what  is  at  the  other  side  of  that  door,  and 
yet  not  looking  ?  " 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  I  cried,  "that  you  don't 
know  yourself  ? " 

"  No  more  than  you  do." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  look  ? " 

"  I  mustn't,"  said  he. 

He  spoke  in  a  constrained  way,  and  I  saw  that  I 
had  blundered  on  to  some  delicate  ground.  I  don't 
know  that  I  am  more  inquisitive  than  my  neighbours, 
but  there  certainly  was  something  in  the  situation 
which  appealed  very  strongly  to  my  curiosity.  How- 
ever, my  last  excuse  for  remaining  in  the  house  was 


THE  SEALED  ROOM  235 

gone  now  that  my  companion  had  recovered  his  senses. 
I  rose  to  go. 

"  Are  you  in  a  hurry  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No ;  I  have  nothing  to  do." 

"Well,  I  should  be  very  glad  if  you  would  stay 
with  me  a  little.  The  fact  is  that  I  live  a  very 
retired  and  secluded  life  here.  I  don't  suppose  there 
is  a  man  in  London  who  leads  such  a  life  as  I  do. 
It  is  quite  unusual  for  me  to  have  any  one  to  talk 
with." 

I  looked  round  at  the  little  room,  scantily  fur- 
nished, with  a  sofa-bed  at  one  side.  Then  I  thought 
of  the  great,  bare  house,  and  the  sinister  door  with 
the  discoloured  red  seal  upon  it.  There  was  some- 
thing queer  and  grotesque  in  the  situation,  which 
made  me  long  to  know  a  little  more.  Perhaps  I 
should,  if  I  waited.  I  told  him  that  I  should  be  very 
happy. 

"  You  will  find  the  spirits  and  a  siphon  upon  the 
side  table.  You  must  forgive  me  if  I  cannot  act  as 
host,  but  I  can't  get  across  the  room.  Those  are  cigars 
in  the  tray  there.  I'll  take  one  myself,  I  think.  And 
so  you  are  a  solicitor,  Mr.  Alder  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  I  am  nothing.  I  am  that  most  helpless  of 
living  creatures,  the  son  of  a  millionaire.  I  was  brought 
up  with  the  expectation  of  great  wealth  ;  and  here  I 
am,  a  poor  man,  without  any  profession  at  all.  And 
then,  on  the  top  of  it  all,  I  am  left  with  this  great 
mansion  on  my  hands,  which  I  cannot  possibly  keep 
up.  Isn't  it  an  absurd  situation  ?  For  me  to  use  this 
as  my  dwelling  is  like  a  coster  drawing  his  barrow 


236  THE  SEALED  ROOM 

with  a  thoroughbred.  A  donkey  would  be  more  useful 
to  him,  and  a  cottage  to  me." 

"  But  why  not  sell  the  house  ? "  I  asked. 

"I  mustn't." 

"Let  it,  then?" 

"No,  I  mustn't  do  that  either." 

I  looked  puzzled,  and  my  companion  smiled. 

"I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,  if  it  won't  bore  you," 
said  he. 

"On  the  contrary,  I  should  be  exceedingly  in- 
terested." 

"  I  think,  after  your  kind  attention  to  me,  I  cannot 
do  less  than  relieve  any  curiosity  that  you  may  feel. 
You  must  know  that  my  father  was  Stanislaus  Stanni- 
ford,  the  banker." 

Stanniford,  the  banker!  I  remembered  the  name 
at  once.  His  flight  from  the  country  some  seven  years 
before  had  been  one  of  the  scandals  and  sensations  of 
the  time. 

"I  see  that  you  remember,"  said  my  companion. 
"My  poor  father  left  the  country  to  avoid  numerous 
friends,  whose  savings  he  had  invested  in  an  unsuc- 
cessful speculation.  He  was  a  nervous,  sensitive  man, 
and  the  responsibility  quite  upset  his  reason.  He  had 
committed  no  legal  offence.  It  was  purely  a  matter 
of  sentiment.  He  would  not  even  face  his  own  family, 
and  he  died  among  strangers  without  ever  letting  us 
know  where  he  was." 

"He  died!"  said  I. 

"  We  could  not  prove  his  death,  but  we  know  that 
it  must  be  so,  because  the  speculations  came  right 
again,  and  so  there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  not 


THE   SEALED  KOOM  237 

look  any  man  in  the  face.  He  would  Lave  returned 
if  he  were  alive.  But  he  must  have  died  in  the  last 
two  years.' ' 

"  Why  in  the  last  two  years  ? " 

"  Because  we  heard  from  him  two  years  ago." 

"  Did  he  not  tell  you  then  where  he  was  living  ?  " 

"The  letter  came  from  Paris,  but  no  address  was 
given.  It  was  when  my  poor  mother  died.  He  wrote 
to  me  then,  with  some  instructions  and  some  advice, 
and  I  have  never  heard  from  him  since." 

"  Had  you  heard  before  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,  we  had  heard  before,  and  that's  where 
our  mystery  of  the  sealed  door,  upon  which  you 
stumbled  to-night,  has  its  origin.  Pass  me  that  desk, 
if  you  please.  Here  I  have  my  father's  letters,  and 
you  are  the  first  man  except  Mr.  Perceval  who  has 
seen  them." 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Perceval,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  He  was  my  father's  confidential  clerk,  and  he  has 
continued  to  be  the  friend  and  adviser  of  my  mother 
and  then  of  myself.  I  don't  know  what  we  should 
have  done  without  Perceval.  He  saw  the  letters,  but 
"no  one  else.  This  is  the  first  one,  which  came  on  the 
very  day  when  my  father  fled,  seven  years  ago.  Eead 
it  to  yourself." 

This  is  the  letter  which  I  read  :— 

"  My  Ever  Dearest  Wife, — 

"Since  Sir  William  told  me  how  weak  your 
heart  is,  and  how  harmful  any  shock  might  be,  I  have 
never  talked  about  my  business  affairs  to  you.  The 
time  has  come  when  at  all  risks  I  can  no  longer  refrain 


238  THE  SEALED  ROOM 

from  telling  you  that  things  have  been  going  badly 
with  me.  This  will  cause  me  to  leave  you  for  a  little 
time,  but  it  is  with  the  absolute  assurance  that  we 
shall  see  each  other  very  soon.  On  this  you  can 
thoroughly  rely.  Our  parting  is  only  for  a  very  short 
time,  my  own  darling,  so  don't  let  it  fret  you,  and  above 
all  don't  let  it  impair  your  health,  for  that  is  what  I 
want  above  all  things  to  avoid. 

"  Now,  I  have  a  request  to  make,  and  I  implore  you 
by  all  that  binds  us  together  to  fulfil  it  exactly  as  I  tell 
you.  There  are  some  things  which  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
seen  by  any  one  in  my  dark  room — the  room  which  I 
use  for  photographic  purposes  at  the  end  of  the  garden 
passage.  To  prevent  any  painful  thoughts,  I  may 
assure  you  once  for  all,  dear,  that  it  is  nothing  of  which 
I  need  be  ashamed.  But  still  I  do  not  wish  you  or 
Felix  to  enter  that  room.  It  is  locked,  and  I  implore 
you  when  you  receive  this  to  at  once  place  a  seal  over 
the  lock,  and  leave  it  so.  Do  not  sell  or  let  the  house, 
for  in  either  case  my  secret  will  be  discovered.  As 
long  as  you  or  Felix  are  in  the  house,  I  know  that 
you  will  comply  with  my  wishes.  When  Felix  is 
twenty-one  he  may  enter  the  room — not  before. 

"  And  now,  good-bye,  my  own  best  of  wives.  Dur- 
ing our  short  separation  you  can  consult  Mr.  Perceval 
on  any  matters  which  may  arise.  He  has  my  complete 
confidence.  I  hate  to  leave  Felix  and  you — even  for  a 
time — but  there  is  really  no  choice. 

"  Ever  and  always  your  loving  husband, 

*  Stanislaus  Stanniford. 

"  June  4th,  1887." 

"These  are  very  private  family  matters  for  me  to 


THE  SEALED  ROOM  239 

inflict  upon  you,"  said  my  companion,  apologetically. 
"You  must  look  upon  it  as  done  in  your  professional 
capacity.  I  have  wanted  to  speak  about  it  for 
years." 

"  I  am  honoured  by  your  confidence,"  I  answered, 
"  and  exceedingly  interested  by  the  facts." 

"My  father  was  a  man  who  was  noted  for  his 
almost  morbid  love  of  truth.  He  was  always  pedan- 
tically accurate.  When  he  said,  therefore,  that  he 
hoped  to  see  my  mother  very  soon,  and  when  he  said 
that  he  had  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of  in  that  dark 
room,  you  may  rely  upon  it  that  he  meant  it." 

"  Then  what  can  it  be  ? "  I  ejaculated. 

"Neither  my  mother  nor  I  could  imagine.  We 
carried  out  his  wishes  to  the  letter,  and  placed  the  seal 
upon  the  door;  there  it  has  been  ever  since.  My 
mother  lived  for  five  years  after  my  father's  disappear- 
ance, although  at  the  time  all  the  doctors  said  that  she 
could  not  survive  long.  Her  heart  was  terribly  dis- 
eased. During  the  first  few  months  she  had  two  letters 
from  my  father.  Both  had  the  Paris  post- mark,  but  no 
address.  They  were  short  and  to  the  same  effect :  that 
they  would  soon  be  re-united,  and  that  she  should  not 
fret.  Then  there  was  a  silence,  which  lasted  until  her 
death;  and  then  came  a  letter  to  me  of  so  private  a 
nature  that  I  cannot  show  it  to  you,  begging  me  never 
to  think  evil  of  him,  giving  me  much  good  advice, 
and  saying  that  the  sealing  of  the  room  was  of 
less  importance  now  than  during  the  lifetime  of  my 
mother,  but  that  the  opening  might  still  cause  pain  to 
others,  and  that,  therefore,  he  thought  it  best  that  it 
should  be  postponed  until  my  twenty-first  year,  for  the 


240  THE  SEALED  ROOM 

lapse  of  time  would  make  things  easier.  In  the  mean- 
time, he  committed  the  care  of  the  room  to  me ;  so  now 
you  can  understand  how  it  is  that,  although  I  am  a 
very  poor  man,  I  can  neither  let  nor  sell  this  great 
house." 

"  You  could  mortgage  it." 

"  My  father  had  already  done  so." 

"  It  is  a  most  singular  state  of  affairs." 

"My  mother  and  I  were  gradually  compelled  to 
sell  the  furniture  and  to  dismiss  the  servants,  until 
now,  as  you  see,  I  am  living  unattended  in  a  single 
room.     But  I  have  only  two  more  months." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Why,  that  in  two  months  I  come  of  age.  The  first 
thing  that  I  do  will  be  to  open  that  door ;  the  second, 
to  get  rid  of  the  house." 

"Why  should  your  father  have  continued  to  stay 
away  when  these  investments  had  recovered  them- 
selves ? " 

"  He  must  be  dead." 

"You  say  that  he  had  not  committed  any  legal 
offence  when  he  fled  the  country  ? " 

"None." 

"Why  should  he  not  take  your  mother  with 
him?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"  Why  should  he  conceal  his  address  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Why  should  he  allow  your  mother  to  die  and  be 
buried  without  coming  back  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  I,  "  if  I  may  speak  with  the 


THE  SEALED  EOOM  241 

frankness  of  a  professional  adviser,  I  should  say  that  it 
is  very  clear  that  your  father  had  the  strongest  reasons 
for  keeping  out  of  the  country,  and  that,  if  nothing  has 
been  proved  against  him,  he  at  least  thought  that 
something  might  be,  and  refused  to  put  himself 
within  the  power  of  the  law.  Surely  that  must  be 
obvious,  for  in  what  other  possible  way  can  the  facts 
be  explained  ? " 

My  companion  did  not  take  my  suggestion  in  good 
part. 

"  You  had  not  the  advantage  of  knowing  my  father, 
Mr.  Alder,"  he  said,  coldly.  "  I  was  only  a  boy  when 
he  left  us,  but  I  shall  always  look  upon  him  as  my 
ideal  man.  His  only  fault  was  that  he  was  too  sensitive 
and  too  unselfish.  That  any  one  should  lose  money 
through  him  would  cut  him  to  the  heart.  His  sense  of 
honour  was  most  acute,  and  any  theory  of  his  dis- 
appearance which  conflicts  with  that  is  a  mistaken 
one." 

It  pleased  me  to  hear  the  lad  speak  out  so  roundly, 
and  yet  I  knew  that  the  facts  were  against  him,  and 
that  he  was  incapable  of  taking  an  unprejudiced  view 
of  the  situation. 

"  I  only  speak  as  an  outsider,"  said  I.  "  And  now 
I  must  leave  you,  for  I  have  a  long  walk  before  me. 
Your  story  has  interested  me  so  much  that  I  should  be 
glad  if  you  could  let  me  know  the  sequel." 

"Leave  me  your  card,"  said  he;  and  so,  having 
bade  him  "good-night,"  I  left  him. 

I  heard  nothing  more  of  the  matter  for  some  time, 
and  had  almost  feared  that  it  would  prove  to  be  one  of 
those  fleeting  experiences  which  drift  away  from  our 

B 


242  THE  SEALED  ROOM 

direct  observation  and  end  only  in  a  hope  or  a  sus- 
picion. One  afternoon,  however,  a  card  bearing  the 
name  of  Mr.  J.  H.  Perceval  was  brought  up  to  my 
office  in  Abchurch  Lane,  and  its  bearer,  a  small  dry, 
bright-eyed  fellow  of  fifty,  was  ushered  in  by  the 
clerk. 

"  I  believe,  sir,"  said  he, "  that  my  name  has  been 
mentioned  to  you  by  my  young  friend,  Mr.  Felix 
Stanniford?" 

"  Of  course,"  I  answered,  "  I  remember." 

"He  spoke  to  you,  I  understand,  about  the  cir- 
cumstances in  connection  with  the  disappearance  of 
my  former  employer,  Mr.  Stanislaus  Stanniford,  and 
the  existence  of  a  sealed  room  in  his  former  residence." 

"He  did." 

"  And  you  expressed  an  interest  in  the  matter." 

"  It  interested  me  extremely." 

"  You  are  aware  that  we  hold  Mr.  Stanniford' s  per- 
mission to  open  the  door  on  the  twenty-first  birthday 
of  his  son  ? " 

"I  remember." 

"  The  twenty-first  birthday  is  to-day." 

"  Have  you  opened  it  ? "  I  asked,  eagerly. 

"Not  yet,  sir,"  said  he,  gravely.  " I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  it  would  be  well  to  have  witnesses  present 
when  that  door  is  opened.  You  are  a  lawyer,  and  you 
are  acquainted  with  the  facts.  Will  you  be  present  on 
the  occasion  ? " 

"  Most  certainly." 

"  You  are  employed  during  the  day,  and  so  am  I. 
Shall  we  meet  at  nine  o'clock  at  the  house  ? " 

"  I  will  come  with  pleasure." 


THE  SEALED   ROOM  243 

"  Then  you  will  find  us  waiting  for  you.  Good-bye, 
for  the  present."  He  bowed  solemnly,  and  took  his 
leave. 

I  kept  my  appointment  that  evening,  with  a  brain 
which  was  weary  with  fruitless  attempts  to  think  out 
some  plausible  explanation  of  the  mystery  which  we 
were  about  to  solve.  Mr.  Perceval  and  my  youog 
acquaintance  were  waiting  for  me  in  the  little  room. 
I  was  not  surprised  to  see  the  young  man  looking  pale 
and  nervous,  but  I  was  rather  astonished  to  find  the 
dry  little  City  man  in  a  state  of  intense,  though  par- 
tially suppressed,  excitement.  His  cheeks  were  flushed, 
his  hands  twitching,  and  he  could  not  stand  still  for  an 
instant. 

Stanniford  greeted  me  warmly,  and  thanked  me 
many  times  for  having  come.  *  And  now,  Perceval," 
said  he  to  his  companion,  "  I  suppose  there  is  no 
obstacle  to  our  putting  the  thing  through  without 
delay  ?    I  shall  be  glad  to  get  it  over." 

The  banker's  clerk  took  up  the  lamp  and  led  the 
way.  But  he  paused  in  the  passage  outside  the  door, 
and  his  hand  was  shaking,  so  that  the  light  flickered 
up  and  down  the  high,  bare  walls. 

"  Mr.  Stanniford,"  said  he,  in  a  cracking  voice,  "  I 
hope  you  will  prepare  yourself  in  case  any  shock  should 
be  awaiting  you  when  that  seal  is  removed  and  the 
door  is  opened." 

"  What  could  there  be,  Perceval  ?  You  are  trying 
to  frighten  me." 

"  No,  Mr.  Stanniford ;  but  I  should  wish  you  to  be 
ready  ...  to  be  braced  up  .  .  .  not  to  allow  yourself. 
.  .  ."    He  had  to  lick  his   dry  lips  between  every 


244  THE  SEALED  ROOM 

jerky  sentence,  and  I  suddenly  realized,  as  clearly  as 
if  he  had  told  me,  that  he  knew  what  was  behind  that 
closed  door,  and  that  it  was  something  terrible.  "  Here 
are  the  keys,  Mr.  Stanniford,  but  remember  my 
warning ! " 

He  had  a  bunch  of  assorted  keys  in  his  hand,  and 
the  young  man  snatched  them  from  him.  Then  he 
thrust  a  knife  under  the  discoloured  red  seal  and 
jerked  it  off.  The  lamp  was  rattling  and  shaking  in 
Perceval's  hands,  so  I  took  it  from  him  and  held  it 
near  the  key  hole,  while  Stanniford  tried  key  after  key. 
At  last  one  turned  in  the  lock,  the  door  flew  open,  he 
took  one  step  into  the  room,  and  then,  with  a 
horrible  cry,  the  young  man  fell  senseless  at  our 
feet. 

If  I  had  not  given  heed  to  the  clerk's  warning,  and 
braced  myself  for  a  shock,  I  should  certainly  have 
dropped  the  lamp.  The  room,  windowless  and  bare, 
was  fitted  up  as  a  photographic  laboratory,  with  a  tap 
and  sink  at  the  side  of  it.  A  shelf  of  bottles  and 
measures  stood  at  one  side,  and  a  peculiar,  heavy 
smell,  partly  chemical,  partly  animal,  filled  the  air. 
A  single  table  and  chair  were  in  front  of  us,  and  at 
this,  with  his  back  turned  towards  us,  a  man  was 
seated  in  the  act  of  writing.  His  outline  and  attitude 
were  as  natural  as  life ;  but  as  the  light  fell  upon  him, 
it  made  my  hair  rise  to  see  that  the  nape  of  his  neck 
was  black  and  wrinkled,  and  no  thicker  than  my  wrist. 
Dust  lay  upon  him — thick,  yellow  dust — upon  his  hair, 
Ins  shoulders,  his  shrivelled,  lemon-coloured  hands. 
His  head  had  fallen  forward  upon  his  breast.  His 
pen  still  rested  upon  a  discoloured  sheet  of  paper. 


THE  SEALED  BOOM  245 

"My  poor  master!  My  poor,  poor  master!" 
cried  the  clerk,  and  the  tears  were  running  down  his 
cheeks. 

"  What ! "  I  cried,  "  Mr.  Stanislaus  Stanniford !  " 

"  Here  he  has  sat  for  seven  years.  Oh,  why  would 
he  do  it  ?  I  begged  him,  I  implored  him,  I  went  on 
my  knees  to  him,  but  he  would  have  his  way.  You 
see  the  key  on  the  table.  He  had  locked  the  door 
upon  the  inside.  And  he  has  written  something.  We 
must  take  it." 

"  Yes,  yes,  take  it,  and  for  God's  sake,  let  us  get 
out  of  this,"  I  cried ;  "  the  air  is  poisonous.  Come, 
Stanniford,  come !  "  Taking  an  arm  each,  we  half  led 
and  half  carried  the  terrified  man  back  to  his  own 
room. 

"  It  was  my  father !  "  he  cried,  as  he  recovered  his 
consciousness.  "  He  is  sitting  there  dead  in  his  chair. 
You  knew  it,  Perceval !  This  was  what  you  meant 
when  you  warned  me." 

"  Yes,  I  knew  it,  Mr.  Stanniford.  I  have  acted  for 
the  best  all  along,  but  my  position  has  been  a  terribly 
difficult  one.  For  seven  years  I  have  known  that  your 
father  was  dead  in  that  room." 

"  You  knew  it,  and  never  told  us ! " 

"Don't  be  harsh  with  me,  Mr.  Stanniford,  sir! 
Make  allowance  for  a  man  who  has  had  a  hard  part  to 
play." 

"My  head  is  swimming  round.  I  cannot  grasp 
it ! "  He  staggered  up,  and  helped  himself  from  the 
brandy  bottle.  "  These  letters  to  my  mother  and  to 
myself — were  they  forgeries  ? " 

"No,  sir;  your  father  wrote  them  and  addressed 


246  THE   SEALED  ROOM 

them,  and  left  them  in  my  keeping  to  be  posted.  I 
have  followed  his  instructions  to  the  very  letter  in 
all  things.  He  was  my  master,  and  I  have  obeyed 
him." 

The  brandy  had  steadied  the  young  man's  shaken 
nerves.  "Tell  me  about  it.  I  can  stand  it  now," 
said  he. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Stanniford,  you  know  that  at  one  time 
there  came  a  period  of  great  trouble  upon  your  father, 
and  he  thought  that  many  poor  people  were  about  to 
lose  their  savings  through  his  fault.  He  was  a  man 
who  was  so  tender-hearted  that  he  could  not  bear  the 
thought.  It  worried  him  and  tormented  him,  until  he 
determined  to  end  his  life.  Oh,  Mr.  Stanniford,  if  you 
knew  how  I  have  prayed  him  and  wrestled  with  him 
over  it,  you  would  never  blame  me !  And  he  in  turn 
prayed  me  as  no  man  has  ever  prayed  me  before.  He 
had  made  up  his  mind,  and  he  would  do  it  in  any  case, 
he  said;  but  it  rested  with  me  whether  his  death 
should  be  happy  and  easy  or  whether  it  should  be 
most  miserable.  I  read  in  his  eyes  that  he  meant 
what  he  said.  And  at  last  I  yielded  to  his  prayers, 
and  I  consented  to  do  his  will. 

"  What  was  troubling  him  was  this.  He  had  been 
told  by  the  first  doctor  in  London  that  his  wife's  heart 
would  fail  at  the  slightest  shock.  He  had  a  horror  of 
accelerating  her  end,  and  yet  his  own  existence  had 
become  unendurable  to  him.  How  could  he  end  him- 
self without  injuring  her  ? 

"You  know  now  the  course  that  he  took.  He 
wrote  the  letter  which  she  received.  There  was  no- 
thing in  it  which  was  not  literally  true.    When  he 


THE   SEALED   KOOM  247 

spoke  of  seeing  her  again  so  soon,  he  was  referring  to 
her  own  approaching  death,  which  he  had  been  assured 
could  not  be  delayed  more  than  a  very  few  months. 
So  convinced  was  he  of  this,  that  he  only  left  two 
letters  to  be  forwarded  at  intervals  after  his  death. 
She  lived  five  years,  and  I  had  no  letters  to  send. 

"  He  left  another  letter  with  me  to  be  sent  to  you, 
sir,  upon  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  your  mother.  I 
posted  all  these  in  Paris  to  sustain  the  idea  of  his 
being  abroad.  It  was  his  wish  that  I  should  say 
nothing,  and  I  have  said  nothing.  I  have  been  a 
faithful  servant.  Seven  years  after  his  death,  he 
thought  no  doubt  that  the  shock  to  the  feelings  of  his 
surviving  friends  would  be  lessened.  He  was  always 
considerate  for  others." 

There  was  silence  for  some  time.  It  was  broken 
by  young  Stanniford. 

"  I  cannot  blame  you,  Perceval.  You  have  spared 
my  mother  a  shock,  which  would  certainly  have  broken 
her  heart.    What  is  that  paper  ?  " 

"  It  is  what  your  father  was  writing,  sir.  Shall  I 
read  it  to  you  ? " 

"  Do  so." 

"  V I  have  taken  the  poison,  and  I  feel  it  working  in 
my  veins.  It  is  strange,  but  not  painful.  When 
these  words  are  read  I  shall,  if  my  wishes  have  been 
faithfully  carried  out,  have  been  dead  many  years. 
Surely  no  one  who  has  lost  money  through  me  will 
still  bear  me  animosity.  And  you,  Felix,  you  will 
forgive  me  this  family  scandal.  May  God  find  rest  for 
a  sorely  wearied  spirit ! ' " 

"  Amen ! "  we  cried,  all  three. 


THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT 

It  is  hard  luck  on  a  young  fellow  to  have  expensive 
tastes,  great  expectations,  aristocratic  connections,  but 
no  actual  money  in  his  pocket,  and  no  profession  by 
which  he  may  earn  any.  The  fact  was  that  my  father, 
a  good,  sanguine,  easy-going  man,  had  such  confidence 
in  the  wealth  and  benevolence  of  his  bachelor  elder 
brother,  Lord  Southerton,  that  he  took  it  for  granted 
that  I,  his  only  son,  would  never  be  called  upon  to  earn 
a  living  for  myself.  He  imagined  that  if  there  were 
not  a  vacancy  for  me  on  the  great  Southerton  Estates, 
at  least  there  would  be  found  some  post  in  that  diplo- 
matic service  which  still  remains  the  special  preserve 
of  our  privileged  classes.  He  died  too  early  to  realize 
how  false  his  calculations  had  been.  Neither  my  uncle 
nor  the  State  took  the  slightest  notice  of  me,  or  showed 
any  interest  in  my  career.  An  occasional  brace  of 
pheasants,  or  basket  of  hares,  was  all  that  ever  reached 
me  to  remind  me  that  I  was  heir  to  Otwell  House  and 
one  of  the  richest  estates  in  the  country.  In  the  mean- 
time, I  found  myself  a  bachelor  and  man  about  town, 
living  in  a  suite  of  apartments  in  Grosvenor  Mansions, 
with  no  occupation  save  that  of  pigeon-shooting  and 
polo-playing  at  Hurlingham.  Month  by  month  I 
realized  that  it  was  more  and  more  difficult  to  get  the 

248 


THE  BEAZILIAN  CAT  249 

brokers  to  renew  my  bills,  or  to  cash  any  further  post- 
obits  upon  an  unentailed  property.  Kuin  lay  right 
across  my  path,  and  every  day  I  saw  it  clearer,  nearer, 
and  more  absolutely  unavoidable. 

What  made  me  feel  my  own  poverty  the  more  was 
that,  apart  from  the  great  wealth  of  Lord  Southerton, 
all  my  other  relations  were  fairly  well-to-do.  The 
nearest  of  these  was  Everard  King,  my  father's  nephew 
and  my  own  first  cousin,  who  had  spent  an  adventurous 
life  in  Brazil,  and  had  now  returned  to  this  country  to 
settle  down  on  his  fortune.  We  never  knew  how  he 
made  his  money,  but  he  appeared  to  have  plenty  of  it, 
for  he  bought  the  estate  of  Greylands,  near  Clipton-on- 
the-Marsh,  in  Suffolk.  For  the  first  year  of  his  resi- 
dence in  England  he  took  no  more  notice  of  me  than 
my  miserly  uncle ;  but  at  last  one  summer  morning,  to 
my  very  great  relief  and  joy,  I  received  a  letter  asking 
me  to  come  down  that  very  day  and  spend  a  short  visit 
at  Greylands  Court.  I  was  expecting  a  rather  long 
visit  to  Bankruptcy  Court  at  the  time,  and  this  interrup- 
tion seemed  almost  providential.  If  I  could  only  get  on 
terms  with  this  unknown  relative  of  mine,  I  might  pull 
through  yet.  For  the  family  credit  he  could  not  let  me 
go  entirely  to  the  wall.  I  ordered  my  valet  to  pack  my 
valise,  and  I  set  off  the  same  evening  for  Clipton-on- 
the-Marsh. 

After  changing  at  Ipswich,  a  little  local  train  de- 
posited me  at  a  small,  deserted  station  lying  amidst  a 
rolling  grassy  country,  with  a  sluggish  and  winding 
river  curving  in  and  out  amidst  the  valleys,  between 
high,  silted  banks,  which  showed  that  we  were  within 
reach  of  the  tide.     No  carriage  was  awaiting  me  (I 


250  THE   BRAZILIAN   CAT 

found  afterwards  that  my  telegram  had  been  delayed), 
so  I  hired  a  dog-cart  at  the  local  inn.  The  driver,  an 
excellent  fellow,  was  full  of  my  relative's  praises,  and  I 
learned  from  him  that  Mr.  Everard  King  was  already  a 
name  to  conjure  with  in  that  part  of  the  country.  He 
had  entertained  the  school-children,  he  had  thrown  his 
grounds  open  to  visitors,  he  had  subscribed  to  charities 
— in  short,  his  benevolence  had  been  so  universal  that 
my  driver  could  only  account  for  it  on  the  supposition 
that  he  had  Parliamentary  ambitions. 

My  attention  was  drawn  away  from  my  driver's 
panegyric  by  the  appearance  of  a  very  beautiful  bird 
which  settled  on  a  telegraph-post  beside  the  road.  At 
first  I  thought  that  it  was  a  jay,  but  it  was  larger, 
with  a  brighter  plumage.  The  driver  accounted  for  its 
presence  at  once  by  saying  that  it  belonged  to  the  very 
man  whom  we  were  about  to  visit.  It  seems  that  the 
acclimatization  of  foreign  creatures  was  one  of  his 
hobbies,  and  that  he  had  brought  with  him  from  Brazil 
a  number  of  birds  and  beasts  which  he  was  endeavour- 
ing to  rear  in  England.  When  once  we  had  passed 
the  gates  of  Greylands  Park  we  had  ample  evidence  of 
this  taste  of  his.  Some  small  spotted  deer,  a  curious 
wild  pig  known,  I  believe,  as  a  peccary,  a  gorgeously 
feathered  oriole,  some  sort  of  armadillo,  and  a  singular 
lumbering  intoed  beast  like  a  very  fat  badger,  were 
among  the  creatures  which  I  observed  as  we  drove 
along  the  winding  avenue. 

Mr,  Everard  King,  my  unknown  cousin,  was  stand- 
ing in  person  upon  the  steps  of  his  house,  for  he  had 
seen  us  in  the  distance,  and  guessed  that  it  was  I.  His 
appearance  was  very  homely  and  benevolent,  short  and 


THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT  251 

stout,  forty-five  years  old  perhaps,  with  a  round,  good- 
humoured  face,  burned  brown  with  the  tropical  sun, 
and  shot  with  a  thousand  wrinkles.  He  wore  white 
linen  clothes,  in  true  planter  style,  with  a  cigar  between 
his  lips,  and  a  large  Panama  hat  upon  the  back  of  his 
head.  It  was  such  a  figure  as  one  associates  with  a 
verandahed  bungalow,  and  it  looked  curiously  out  of 
place  in  front  of  this  broad,  stone  English  mansion, 
with  its  solid  wings  and  its  Palladio  pillars  before  the 
doorway. 

"  My  dear ! "  he  cried,  glancing  over  his  shoulder ; 
"  my  dear,  here  is  our  guest !  Welcome,  welcome  to 
Grey  lands !  I  am  delighted  to  make  your  acquaint- 
ance, Cousin  Marshall,  and  I  take  it  as  a  great  compli- 
ment that  you  should  honour  this  sleepy  little  country 
place  with  your  presence." 

Nothing  could  be  more  hearty  than  his  manner,  and 
he  set  me  at  my  ease  in  an  instant.  But  it  needed  all 
his  cordiality  to  atone  for  the  frigidity  and  even  rude- 
ness of  his  wife,  a  tall,  haggard  woman,  who  came  for- 
ward at  his  summons.  She  was,  I  believe,  of  Brazilian 
extraction,  though  she  spoke  excellent  English,  and  I 
excused  her  manners  on  the  score  of  her  ignorance  of 
our  customs.  She  did  not  attempt  to  conceal,  however, 
either  then  or  afterwards,  that  I  was  no  very  welcome 
visitor  at  Grey  lands  Court.  Her  actual  words  were,  as 
a  rule,  courteous,  but  she  was  the  possessor  of  a  pair  of 
particularly  expressive  dark  eyes,  and  I  read  in  them 
very  clearly  from  the  first  that  she  heartily  wished  me 
back  in  London  once  more. 

However,  my  debts  were  too  pressing  and  my  designs 
upon  my  wealthy  relative  were  too  vital  for  me  to 


252  THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT 

allow  them  to  be  upset  by  the  ill-temper  of  his  wife,  so 
I  disregarded  her  coldness  and  reciprocated  the  extreme 
cordiality  of  his  welcome.  No  pains  had  been  spared 
by  him  to  make  me  comfortable.  My  room  was  a 
charming  one.  He  implored  me  to  tell  him  anything 
which  could  add  to  my  happiness.  It  was  on  the  tip 
of  my  tongue  to  inform  him  that  a  blank  cheque  would 
materially  help  towards  that  end,  but  I  felt  that  it 
might  be  premature  in  the  present  state  of  our  acquaint- 
ance. The  dinner  was  excellent,  and  as  we  sat  together 
afterwards  over  his  Havanas  and  coffee,  which  latter 
he  told  me  was  specially  prepared  upon  his  own  planta- 
tion, it  seemed  to  me  that  all  my  driver's  eulogies  were 
justified,  and  that  I  had  never  met  a  more  large-hearted 
and  hospitable  man. 

But,  in  spite  of  his  cheery  good  nature,  he  was  a 
man  with  a  strong  will  and  a  fiery  temper  of  his  own. 
Of  this  I  had  an  example  upon  the  following  morning. 
The  curious  aversion  which  Mrs.  Everard  King  had 
conceived  towards  me  was  so  strong,  that  her  manner 
at  breakfast  was  almost  offensive.  But  her  meaning 
became  unmistakable  when  her  husband  had  quitted 
the  room. 

"The  best  train  in  the  day  is  at  twelve  fifteen," 
said  she. 

"But  I  was  not  thinking  of  going  to-day,"  I 
answered,  frankly — perhaps  even  defiantly,  for  I 
was  determined  not  to  be  driven  out  by  this  woman. 

"  Oh,  if  it  rests  with  you "  said  she,  and  stopped, 

with  a  most  insolent  expression  in  her  eyes. 

"I  am  sure,"  I  answered  "that  Mr.  Everard  King 
would  tell  me  if  I  were  outstaying  my  welcome." 


THE  BKAZILIAN  CAT  253 

"  What's  this  ?  What's  this  ? "  said  a  voice,  and 
there  he  was  in  the  room.  He  had  overheard  my  last 
words,  and  a  glance  at  onr  faces  had  told  him  the 
rest.  In  an  instant  his  chubby,  cheery  face  set  into  an 
expression  of  absolute  ferocity. 

"  Might  I  trouble  you  to  walk  outside,  Marshall," 
said  he.  (I  may  mention  that  my  own  name  is 
Marshall  King.) 

He  closed  the  door  behind  me,  and  then,  for  an 
instant,  I  heard  him  talking  in  a  low  voice  of  con- 
centrated passion  to  his  wife.  This  gross  breach  of 
hospitality  had  evidently  hit  upon  his  tenderest  point. 
I  am  no  eavesdropper,  so  I  walked  out  on  to  the  lawn. 
Presently  I  heard  a  hurried  step  behind  me,  and  there 
was  the  lady,  her  face  pale  with  excitement,  and  her 
eyes  red  with  tears. 

"  My  husband  has  asked  me  to  apologize  to  you, 
Mr.  Marshall  King,"  said  she,  standing  with  downcast 
eyes  before  me. 

"  Please  do  not  say  another  word,  Mrs.  King." 

Her  dark  eyes  suddenly  blazed  out  at  me. 

"  You  fool ! "  she  hissed,  with  frantic  vehemence, 
and  turning  on  her  heel  swept  back  to  the  house. 

The  insult  was  so  outrageous,  so  insufferable,  that 
I  could  only  stand  staring  after  her  in  bewilderment. 
I  was  still  there  when  my  host  joined  me.  He  was  his 
cheery,  chubby  self  once  more. 

"  I  hope  that  my  wife  has  apologized  for  her  foolish 
remarks,"  said  he. 

"  Oh,  yes — yes,  certainly  ! " 

He  put  his  hand  through  my  arm  and  walked  with 
me  up  and  down  the  lawn. 


254  THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT 

"  You  must  not  take  it  seriously,"  said  he.  "  It 
would  grieve  me  inexpressibly  if  you  curtailed  your 
visit  by  one  hour.  The  fact  is — there  is  no  reason 
why  there  should  be  any  concealment  between  rela- 
tives—that my  poor  dear  wife  is  incredibly  jealous. 
She  hates  that  any  one — male  or  female — should  for 
an  instant  come  between  us.  Her  ideal  is  a  desert 
island  and  an  eternal  tete-a-tete.  That  gives  you  the 
clue  to  her  actions,  which  are,  I  confess,  upon  this 
particular  point,  not  very  far  removed  from  mania. 
Tell  me  that  you  will  think  no  more  of  it." 

"  No,  no ;  certainly  not." 

"Then  light  this  cigar  and  come  round  with  me 
and  see  my  little  menagerie." 

The  whole  afternoon  was  occupied  by  this  inspec- 
tion, which  included  all  the  birds,  beasts,  and  even 
reptiles  which  he  had  imported.  Some  were  free, 
some  in  cages,  a  few  actually  in  the  house.  He  spoke 
with  enthusiasm  of  his  successes  and  his  failures,  his 
births  and  his  deaths,  and  he  would  cry  out  in  his 
delight,  like  a  schoolboy,  when,  as  we  walked,  some 
gaudy  bird  would  flutter  up  from  the  grass,  or  some 
curious  beast  slink  into  the  cover.  Finally  he  led  me 
down  a  corridor  which  extended  from  one  wing  of  the 
house.  At  the  end  of  this  there  was  a  heavy  door  with 
a  sliding  shutter  in  it,  and  beside  it  there  projected 
from  the  wall  an  iron  handle  attached  to  a  wheel  and  a 
drum.    A  line  of  stout  bars  extended  across  the  passage. 

"  I  am  about  to  show  you  the  jewel  of  my  collec- 
tion," said  he.  "  There  is  only  one  other  specimen  in 
Europe,  now  that  the  Kotterdam  cub  is  dead.  It  is  a 
Brazilian  cat." 


THE  BEAZILIAN   CAT  255 

"  But  how  does  that  differ  from  any  other  cat  ?  " 

"  You  will  soon  see  that,"  said  he,  laughing.  "  Will 
you  kindly  draw  that  shutter  and  look  through  ? " 

I  did  so,  and  found  that  I  was  gazing  into  a  large, 
empty  room,  with  stone  flags,  and  small,  barred 
windows  upon  the  farther  wall. 

In  the  centre  of  this  room,  lying  in  the  middle  of  a 
golden  patch  of  sunlight,  there  was  stretched  a  huge 
creature,  as  large  as  a  tiger,  but  as  black  and  sleek  as 
ebony.  It  was  simply  a  very  enormous  and  very  well- 
kept  black  cat,  and  it  cuddled  up  and  basked  in  that 
yellow  pool  of  light  exactly  as  a  cat  would  do.  It  was 
so  graceful,  so  sinewy,  and  so  gently  and  smoothly 
diabolical,  that  I  could  not  take  my  eyes  from  the 
opening. 

"  Isn't  he  splendid  ? "  said  my  host,  enthusiastically. 

"  Glorious !    I  never  saw  such  a  noble  creature." 

"  Some  people  call  it  a  black  puma,  but  really  it  is 
not  a  puma  at  all.  That  fellow  is  nearly  eleven  feet 
from  tail  to  tip.  Four  years  ago  he  was  a  little  ball  of 
black  fluff,  with  two  yellow  eyes  staring  out  of  it.  He 
was  sold  me  as  a  new-born  cub  up  in  the  wild  country 
at  the  head-waters  of  the  Bio  Negro.  They  speared 
his  mother  to  death  after  she  had  killed  a  dozen  of 
them." 

"  They  are  ferocious,  then  ?  " 

w  The  most  absolutely  treacherous  and  blood-thirsty 
creatures  upon  earth.  You  talk  about  a  Brazilian  cac 
to  an  up-country  Indian,  and  see  him  get  the  jumps. 
They  prefer  humans  to  game.  This  fellow  has  never 
tasted  living  blood  yet,  but  when  he  does  he  will  be  a 
terror.     At  present  he  won't  stand  any  one  but  me 


256  THE  BRAZILIAN  OAT 

in  his  den.  Even  Baldwin,  the  groom,  dare  not  go 
near  him.  As  to  me,  I  am  his  mother  and  father  in 
one." 

As  he  spoke  he  suddenly,  to  my  astonishment, 
opened  the  door  and  slipped  in,  closing  it  instantly 
behind  him.  At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  huge,  lithe 
creature  rose,  yawned,  and  rubbed  its  round,  black 
head  affectionately  against  his  side,  while  he  patted 
and  fondled  it. 

"  Now,  Tommy,  into  your  cage  !  "  said  he. 

The  monstrous  cat  walked  over  to  one  side  of  the 
room  and  coiled  itself  up  under  a  grating.  Everard 
King  came  out,  and  taking  the  iron  handle  which  I 
have  mentioned,  he  began  to  turn  it.  As  he  did  so 
the  line  of  bars  in  the  corridor  began  to  pass  through 
a  slot  in  the  wall  and  closed  up  the  front  of  this 
grating,  so  as  to  make  an  effective  cage.  When  it 
was  in  position  he  opened  the  door  once  more  and 
invited  me  into  the  room,  which  was  heavy  with  the 
pungent,  musty  smell  peculiar  to  the  great  carnivora. 

"  That's  how  we  work  it,"  said  he.  "  We  give  him 
the  run  of  the  room  for  exercise,  and  then  at  night 
we  put  him  in  his  cage.  You  can  let  him  out  by 
turning  the  handle  from  the  passage,  or  you  can,  as 
you  have  seen,  coop  him  up  in  the  same  way.  No, 
no,  you  should  not  do  that ! " 

I  had  put  my  hand  between  the  bars  to  pat  the 
glossy,  heaving  flank.  He  pulled  it  back,  with  a 
serious  face. 

"  I  assure  you  that  he  is  not  safe.  Don't  imagine 
that  because  I  can  take  liberties  with  him  any  one  else 
can.    He  is  very  exclusive  in  his  friends — aren't  you, 


THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT  257 

Tommy  ?  Ah,  he  hears  his  lunch  coming  to  him ! 
Don't  you,  boy  ?  " 

A  step  sounded  in  the  stone-flagged  passage,  and 
the  creature  had  sprung  to  his  feet,  and  was  pacing 
up  and  down  the  narrow  cage,  his  yellow  eyes  gleam- 
ing, and  his  scarlet  tongue  rippling  and  quivering  over 
the  white  line  of  his  jagged  teeth.  A  groom  entered 
with  a  coarse  joint  upon  a  tray,  and  thrust  it  through 
the  bars  to  him.  He  pounced  lightly  upon  it,  carried 
it  off  to  the  corner,  and  there,  holding  it  between  his 
paws,  tore  and  wrenched  at  it,  raising  his  bloody 
muzzle  every  now  and  then  to  look  at  us.  It  was  a 
malignant  and  yet  fascinating  sight. 

"You  can't  wonder  that  I  am  fond  of  him,  can 
you  ? "  said  my  host,  as  we  left  the  room,  "  especially 
when  you  consider  that  I  have  had  the  rearing  of  him. 
It  was  no  joke  bringing  him  over  from  the  centre  of 
South  America;  but  here  he  is  safe  and  sound — and, 
as  I  have  said,  far  the  most  perfect  specimen  in 
Europe.  The  people  at  the  Zoo  are  dying  to  have 
him,  but  I  really  can't  part  with  him.  Now,  I  think 
that  I  have  inflicted  my  hobby  upon  you  long  enough, 
so  we  cannot  do  better  than  follow  Tommy's  example, 
and  go  to  our  lunch." 

My  South  American  relative  was  so  engrossed  by 
his  grounds  and  their  curious  occupants,  that  I  hardly 
gave  him  credit  at  first  for  having  any  interests  outside 
them.  That  he  had  some,  and  pressing  ones,  was  soon 
borne  in  upon  me  by  the  number  of  telegrams  which 
he  received.  They  arrived  at  all  hours,  and  were 
always  opened  by  him  with  the  utmost  eagerness  and 
anxiety  upon  his  face.     Sometimes  I  imagined  that  it 

8 


258  THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT 

must  be  the  turf,  and  sometimes  the  Stock  Exchange, 
but  certainly  he  had  some  very  urgent  business  going 
forwards  which  was  not  transacted  upon  the  Downs 
of  Suffolk.  During  the  six  days  of  my  visit  he  had 
never  fewer  than  three  or  four  telegrams  a  day,  and 
sometimes  as  many  as  seven  or  eight. 

I  had  occupied  these  six  days  so  well,  that  by 
the  end  of  them  I  had  succeeded  in  getting  upon  the 
most  cordial  terms  with  my  cousin.  Every  night  we 
had  sat  up  late  in  the  billiard-room,  he  telling  me 
the  most  extraordinary  stories  of  his  adventures  in 
America — stories  so  desperate  and  reckless,  that  I 
could  hardly  associate  them  with  the  brown  little, 
chubby  man  before  me.  In  return,  I  ventured  upon 
some  of  my  own  reminiscences  of  London  life,  which 
interested  him  so  much,  that  he  vowed  he  would  come 
up  to  Grosvenor  Mansions  and  stay  with  me.  He 
was  anxious  to  see  the  faster  side  of  city  life,  and 
certainly,  though  I  say  it,  he  could  not  have  chosen 
a  more  competent  guide.  It  was  not  until  the  last 
day  of  my  visit  that  I  ventured  to  approach  that 
which  was  on  my  mind.  I  told  him  frankly  about 
my  pecuniary  difficulties  and  my  impending  ruin,  and 
I  asked  his  advice — though  I  hoped  for  something 
more  solid.  He  listened  attentively,  puffing  hard  at 
his  cigar. 

"But  surely,"  said  he,  "you  are  the  heir  of  our 
relative,  Lord  Southerton  ? " 

"  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  so,  but  he  would 
never  make  me  any  allowance." 

"No,  no,  I  have  heard  of  his  miserly  ways.  My 
poor  Marshal],  your  position  has  been  a  very  hard 


THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT  259 

one.  By  the  way,  have  you  heard  any  news  of  Lord 
Southerton's  health  lately  ? " 

"He  has  always  been  in  a  critical  condition  ever 
since  my  childhood." 

"  Exactly — a  creaking  hinge,  if  ever  there  was  one. 
Your  inheritance  may  be  a  long  way  off.  Dear  me, 
how  awkwardly  situated  you  are ! " 

"  I  had  some  hopes,  sir,  that  you,  knowing  all  the 
facts,  might  be  inclined  to  advance " 

"Don't  say  another  word,  my  dear  boy,"  he  cried, 
with  the  utmost  cordiality ;  "  we  shall  talk  it  over 
to-night,  and  I  give  you  my  word  that  whatever  is  in 
my  power  shall  be  done." 

I  was  not  sorry  that  my  visit  was  drawing  to  a 
close,  for  it  is  unpleasant  to  feel  that  there  is  one 
person  in  the  house  who  eagerly  desires  your  departure. 
Mrs.  King's  sallow  face  and  forbidding  eyes  had  become 
more  and  more  hateful  to  me.  She  was  no  longer 
actively  rude — her  fear  of  her  husband  prevented  her 
— but  she  pushed  her  insane  jealousy  to  the  extent  of 
ignoring  me,  never  addressing  me,  and  in  every  way 
making  my  stay  at  Grey  lands  as  uncomfortable  as 
she  could.  So  offensive  was  her  manner  during  that 
last  day,  that  I  should  certainly  have  left  had  it  not 
been  for  that  interview  with  my  host  in  the  evening 
which  would,  I  hoped,  retrieve  my  broken  fortunes. 

It  was  very  late  when  it  occurred,  for  my  relative, 
who  had  been  receiving  even  more  telegrams  than 
usual  during  the  day,  went  off  to  his  study  after 
dinner,  and  only  emerged  when  the  household  had 
retired  to  bed.  I  heard  him  go  round  locking  the 
doors,  as  his  custom  was  of  a  night,  and  finally  he 


260  THE  BEAZILIAN  CAT 

joined  me  in  the  billiard-room.  His  stout  figure  was 
wrapped  in  a  dressing-gown,  and  he  wore  a  pair  of 
red  Turkish  slippers  without  any  heels.  Settling 
down  into  an  arm-chair,  he  brewed  himself  a  glass 
of  grog,  in  which  I  could  not  help  noticing  that  the 
whisky  considerably  predominated  over  the  water. 

"  My  word ! "  said  he,  "  what  a  night ! " 

It  was,  indeed.  The  wind  was  howling  and 
screaming  round  the  house,  and  the  latticed  windows 
rattled  and  shook  as  if  they  were  coming  in.  The 
glow  of  the  yellow  lamps  and  the  flavour  of  our 
cigars  seemed  the  brighter  and  more  fragrant  for  the 
contrast. 

"  Now,  my  boy,"  said  my  host,  "  we  have  the  house 
and  the  night  to  ourselves.  Let  me  have  an  idea  of 
how  your  affairs  stand,  and  I  will  see  what  can  be 
done  to  set  them  in  order.  I  wish  to  hear  every 
detail." 

Thus  encouraged,  I  entered  into  a  long  exposition, 
in  which  all  my  tradesmen  and  creditors,  from  my 
landlord  to  my  valet,  figured  in  turn.  I  had  notes 
in  my  pocket-book,  and  I  marshalled  my  facts,  and 
gave,  I  flatter  myself,  a  very  business-like  statement 
of  my  own  unbusiness-like  ways  and  lamentable 
position.  I  was  depressed,  however,  to  notice  that 
my  companion's  eyes  were  vacant  and  his  attention 
elsewhere.  When  he  did  occasionally  throw  out  a 
remark,  it  was  so  entirely  perfunctory  and  pointless, 
that  I  was  sure  he  had  not  in  the  least  followed  my 
remarks.  Every  now  and  then  he  roused  himself  and 
put  on  some  show  of  interest,  asking  me  to  repeat  or 
to  explain  more  fully,  but  it  was  always  to  sink  once 


THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT  261 

more  into  the  same  brown  study.  At  last  he  rose  and 
threw  the  end  of  his  cigar  into  the  grate. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  my  boy,"  said  he.  "  I  never 
had  a  head  for  figures,  so  you  will  excuse  me.  You 
must  jot  it  all  down  upon  paper,  and  let  me  have  a 
note  of  the  amount.  I'll  understand  it  when  I  see  it 
in  black  and  white." 

The  proposal  was  encouraging.  I  promised  to 
do  so. 

"And  now  it's  time  we  were  in  bed.  By  Jove, 
there's  one  o'clock  striking  in  the  hall." 

The  tinging  of  the  chiming  clock  broke  through  the 
deep  roar  of  the  gale.  The  wind  was  sweeping  past 
with  the  rush  of  a  great  river. 

"I  must  see  my  cat  before  I  go  to  bed,"  said 
my  host.  "A  high  wind  excites  him.  Will  you 
come  ? " 

"  Certainly,"  said  I. 

"  Then  tread  softly  and  don't  speak,  for  every  one 
is  asleep." 

We  passed  quietly  down  the  lamp-lit  Persian- 
rugged  hall,  and  through  the  door  at  the  farther  end. 
All  was  dark  in  the  stone  corridor,  but  a  stable 
lantern  hung  on  a  hook,  and  my  host  took  it  down  and 
lit  it.  There  was  no  grating  visible  in  the  passage,  so 
I  knew  that  the  beast  was  in  its  cage. 

"  Come  in ! "  said  my  relative,  and  opened  the 
door. 

A  deep  growling  as  we  entered  showed  that  the 
storm  had  really  excited  the  creature.  In  the  flicker- 
ing light  of  the  lantern,  we  saw  it,  a  huge  black  mass, 
coiled  in  the  corner  of  its  den  and  throwing  a  squat, 


262  THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT 

uncouth  shadow  upon  the  whitewashed  wall.  Its  tail 
switched  angrily  among  the  straw. 

"  Poor  Tommy  is  not  in  the  best  of  tempers,"  said 
Everard  King,  holding  up  the  lantern  and  looking  in  at 
him.  "  What  a  black  devil  he  looks,  doesn't  he  ?  I 
must  give  him  a  little  supper  to  put  him  in  a  better 
humour.  Would  you  mind  holding  the  lantern  for  a 
moment  ? " 

I  took  it  from  his  hand  and  he  stepped  to  the 
door. 

"  His  larder  is  just  outside  here,"  said  he.  "  You 
will  excuse  me  for  an  instant,  won't  you  ? "  He 
passed  out,  and  the  door  shut  with  a  sharp  metallic 
click  behind  him. 

That  hard  crisp  sound  made  my  heart  stand  still. 
A  sudden  wave  of  terror  passed  over  me.  A  vague 
perception  of  some  monstrous  treachery  turned  me 
cold.  I  sprang  to  the  door,  but  there  was  no  handle 
upon  the  inner  side. 

"  Here ! "  I  cried.    "  Let  me  out  I  " 

"  All  right !  Don't  make  a  row  ! "  said  my  host 
from  the  passage.     "  You've  got  the  light  all  right." 

u  Yes,  but  I  don't  care  about  being  locked  in  alone 
like  this." 

"  Don't  you  ? "  I  heard  his  hearty,  chuckling  laugh. 
"  You  won't  be  alone  long." 

"  Let  me  out,  sir ! "  I  repeated  angrily.  "  I  tell  you 
I  don't  allow  practical  jokes  of  this  sort." 

"Practical  is  the  word,"  said  he,  with  another 
hateful  chuckle.  And  then  suddenly  I  heard,  amidst 
the  roar  of  the  storm,  the  creak  and  whine  of  the 
winch- handle  turning,  and  the  rattle  of  the  grating  as 


THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT  263 

it  passed  through,  the  slot.  Great  God,  he  was  letting 
loose  the  Brazilian  cat ! 

In  the  light  of  the  lantern  I  saw  the  bars  sliding 
slowly  before  me.  Already  there  was  an  opening  a 
foot  wide  at  the  farther  end.  With  a  scream  I  seized 
the  last  bar  with  my  hands  and  pulled  with  the 
strength  of  a  madman.  I  was  a  madman  with  rage 
and  horror.  For  a  minute  or  more  I  held  the  thing 
motionless.  I  knew  that  he  was  straining  with  all  his 
force  upon  the  handle,  and  that  the  leverage  was  sure 
to  overcome  me.  I  gave  inch  by  inch,  my  feet  sliding 
along  the  stones,  and  all  the  time  I  begged  and  prayed 
this  inhuman  monster  to  save  me  from  this  horrible 
death.  I  conjured  him  by  his  kinship.  I  reminded 
him  that  I  was  his  guest ;  I  begged  to  know  what  harm 
I  had  ever  done  him.  His  only  answers  were  the  tugs 
and  jerks  upon  the  handle,  each  of  which,  in  spite  of 
all  my  struggles,  pulled  another  bar  through  the  open- 
ing. Clinging  and  clutching,  I  was  dragged  across  the 
whole  front  of  the  cage,  until  at  last,  with  aching 
wrists  and  lacerated  ringers,  I  gave  up  the  hopeless 
struggle.  The  grating  clanged  back  as  I  released  it, 
and  an  instant  later  I  heard  the  shuffle  of  the  Turkish 
slippers  in  the  passage,  and  the  slam  of  the  distant 
door.    Then  everything  was  silent. 

The  creature  had  never  moved  during  this  time. 
He  lay  still  in  the  corner,  and  his  tail  had  ceased 
switching.  This  apparition  of  a  man  adhering  to  his 
bars  and  dragged  screaming  across  him  had  apparently 
filled  him  with  amazement.  I  saw  his  great  eyes 
staring  steadily  at  me.  I  had  dropped  the  lantern 
when  I  seized  the  bars,  but  it  still  burned  upon  the 


264  THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT 

floor,  and  I  made  a  movement  to  grasp  it,  with  some 
idea  that  its  light  might  protect  me.  But  the  instant 
I  moved,  the  beast  gave  a  deep  and  menacing  growl. 
I  stopped  and  stood  still,  quivering  with  fear  in  every 
limb.  The  cat  (if  one  may  call  so  fearful  a  creature  by 
so  homely  a  name)  was  not  more  than  ten  feet  from 
me.  The  eyes  glimmered  like  two  discs  of  phosphorus 
in  the  darkness.  They  appalled  and  yet  fascinated 
me.  I  could  not  take  my  own  eyes  from  them. 
Nature  plays  strange  tricks  with  us  at  such  moments 
of  intensity,  and  those  glimmering  lights  waxed  and 
waned  with  a  steady  rise  and  fall.  Sometimes  they 
seemed  to  be  tiny  points  of  extreme  brilliancy — little 
electric  sparks  in  the  black  obscurity —  then  they  would 
widen  and  widen  until  all  that  corner  of  the  room  was 
filled  with  their  shifting  and  sinister  light.  And  then 
suddenly  they  went  out  altogether. 

The  beast  had  closed  its  eyes.  I  do  not  know 
whether  there  may  be  any  truth  in  the  old  idea  of  the 
dominance  of  the  human  gaze,  or  whether  the  huge  cat 
was  simply  drowsy,  but  the  fact  remains  that,  far  from 
showing  any  symptom  of  attacking  me,  it  simply 
rested  its  sleek,  black  head  upon  its  huge  forepaws  and 
seemed  to  sleep.  I  stood,  fearing  to  move  lest  I  should 
rouse  it  into  malignant  life  once  more.  But  at  least  I 
was  able  to  think  clearly  now  that  the  baleful  eyes 
were  off  me.  Here  I  was  shut  up  for  the  night  with 
the  ferocious  beast.  My  own  instincts,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  words  of  the  plausible  villain  who  laid  this  trap 
for  me,  warned  me  that  the  animal  was  as  savage  as  its 
master.  How  could  I  stave  it  off  until  morning  ?  The 
door  was  hopeless,   and  so  were  the  narrow,  barred 


THE  BKAZILIAN  CAT  265 

windows.  There  was  no  shelter  anywhere  in  the  bare, 
stone-flagged  room.  To  cry  for  assistance  was  absurd. 
I  knew  that  this  den  was  an  outhouse,  and  that  the 
corridor  which  connected  it  with  the  house  was  at  least 
a  hundred  feet  long.  Besides,  with  that  gale  thunder- 
ing outside,  my  cries  were  not  likely  to  be  heard. 
I  had  only  my  own  courage  and  my  own  wits  to 
trust  to. 

And  then,  with  a  fresh  wave  of  horror,  my  eyes  fell 
upon  the  lantern.  The  candle  had  burned  low,  and  was 
already  beginning  to  gutter.  In  ten  minutes  it  would 
be  out.  I  had  only  ten  minutes  then  in  which  to  do 
something,  for  I  felt  that  if  I  were  once  left  in  the  dark 
with  that  fearful  beast  I  should  be  incapable  of  action. 
The  very  thought  of  it  paralyzed  me.  I  cast  my 
despairing  eyes  round  this  chamber  of  death,  and  they 
rested  upon  one  spot  which  seemed  to  promise  I  will 
not  say  safety,  but  less  immediate  and  imminent  danger 
than  the  open  floor. 

I  have  said  that  the  cage  had  a  top  as  well  as  a 
front,  and  this  top  was  left  standing  when  the  front 
was  wound  through  the  slot  in  the  wall.  It  consisted 
of  bars  at  a  few  inches,  interval,  with  stout  wire  netting 
between,  and  it  rested  upon  a  strong  stanchion  at  each 
end.  It  stood  now  as  a  great  barred  canopy  over  the 
crouching  figure  in  the  corner.  The  space  between  this 
iron  shelf  and  the  roof  may  have  been  from  two  to  three 
feet.  If  I  could  only  get  up  there,  squeezed  in  between 
bars  and  ceiling,  I  should  have  only  one  vulnerable 
side.  I  should  be  safe  from  below,  from  behind,  and 
from  each  side.  Only  on  the  open  face  of  it  could  I 
be  attacked.    There,  it  is  true,  I  had  no  protection 


266  THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT 

whatever ;  but,  at  least,  I  should  be  out  of  the  brute's 
path  when  he  began  to  pace  about  his  den.  He  would 
have  to  come  out  of  his  way  to  reach  me.  It  was  now  or 
never,  for  if  once  the  light  were  out  it  would  be  impos- 
sible. With  a  gulp  in  my  throat  I  sprang  up,  seized 
the  iron  edge  of  the  top,  and  swung  myself  panting  on 
to  it.  I  writhed  in  face  downwards,  and  found  myself 
looking  straight  into  the  terrible  eyes  and  yawning  jaws 
of  the  cat.  Its  fetid  breath  came  up  into  my  face  like 
the  steam  from  some  foul  pot. 

It  appeared,  however,  to  be  rather  curious  than 
angry.  With  a  sleek  ripple  of  its  long,  black  back  it 
rose,  stretched  itself,  and  then  rearing  itself  on  its  hind 
legs,  with  one  fore  paw  against  the  wall,  it  raised  the 
other,  and  drew  its  claws  across  the  wire  meshes 
beneath  me.  One  sharp,  white  hook  tore  through  my 
trousers — for  I  may  mention  that  I  was  still  in  even- 
ing dress — and  dug  a  furrow  in  my  knee.  It  was  not 
meant  as  an  attack,  but  rather  as  an  experiment,  for 
upon  my  giving  a  sharp  cry  of  pain  he  dropped  down 
again,  and  springing  lightly  into  the  room,  he  began 
walking  swiftly  round  it,  looking  up  every  now  and 
again  in  my  direction.  For  my  part  I  shuffled  back- 
wards until  I  lay  with  my  back  against  the  wall, 
screwing  myself  into  the  smallest  space  possible.  The 
farther  I  got  the  more  difficult  it  was  for  him  to 
attack  me. 

He  seemed  more  excited  now  that  he  had  begun  to 
move  about,  and  he  ran  swiftly  and  noiselessly  round 
and  round  the  den,  passing  continually  underneath  the 
iron  couch  upon  which  I  lay.  It  was  wonderful  to  see 
Bo  great  a  bulk  passing  like  a  shadow,  with  hardly  the 


THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT  267 

softest  thudding  of  velvety  pads.  The  candle  was 
burning  low — so  low  that  I  could  hardly  see  the 
creature.  And  then,  with  a  last  flare  and  splutter  it 
went  out  altogether.  I  was  alone  with  the  cat  in  the 
dark! 

It  helps  one  to  face  a  danger  when  one  knows  that 
one  has  done  all  that  possibly  can  be  done.  There  is 
nothing  for  it  then  but  to  quietly  await  the  result.  In 
this  case,  there  was  no  chance  of  safety  anywhere 
except  the  precise  spot  where  I  was.  I  stretched 
myself  out,  therefore,  and  lay  silently,  almost  breath- 
lessly, hoping  that  the  beast  might  forget  my  presence 
if  I  did  nothing  to  remind  him.  I  reckoned  that  it 
must  already  be  two  o'clock.  At  four  it  would  be  full 
dawn.  I  had  not  more  than  two  hours  to  wait  for 
daylight. 

Outside,  the  storm  was  still  raging,  and  the  rain 
lashed  continually  against  the  little  windows.  Inside, 
the  poisonous  and  fetid  air  was  overpowering.  I  could 
neither  hear  nor  see  the  cat.  I  tried  to  think  about 
other  things — but  only  one  had  power  enough  to  draw 
my  mind  from  my  terrible  position.  That  was  the 
contemplation  of  my  cousin's  villainy,  his  unparalleled 
hypocrisy,  his  malignant  hatred  of  me«  Beneath  that 
cheerful  face  there  lurked  the  spirit  of  a  mediaeval 
assassin.  And  as  I  thought  of  it  I  saw  more  clearly 
how  cunningly  the  thing  had  been  arranged.  He  had 
apparently  gone  to  bed  with  the  others.  No  doubt  he 
had  his  witnesses  to  prove  it.  Then,  unknown  to  them, 
he  had  slipped  down,  had  lured  me  into  this  den  and 
abandoned  me.  His  story  would  be  so  simple.  He 
had  left  me  to  finish  my  cigar  in  the  billiard-room.     I 


268  THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT 

had  gone  down  on  my  own  account  to  have  a  last  look 
at  the  cat.  I  had  entered  the  room  without  observing 
that  the  cage  was  opened,  and  I  had  been  caught. 
How  could  such  a  crime  be  brought  home  to  him  ? 
Suspicion,  perhaps — but  proof,  never  ! 

How  slowly  those  dreadful  two  hours  went  by! 
Once  I  heard  a  low,  rasping  sound,  which  I  took  to  be 
the  creature  licking  its  own  fur.  Several  times  those 
greenish  eyes  gleamed  at  me  through  the  darkness,  but 
never  in  a  fixed  stare,  and  my  hopes  grew  stronger  that 
my  presence  had  been  forgotten  or  ignored.  At  last 
the  least  faint  glimmer  of  light  came  through  the 
windows — I  first  dimly  saw  them  as  two  grey  squares 
upon  the  black  wall,  then  grey  turned  to  white,  and  I 
could  see  my  terrible  companion  once  more.  And  he, 
alas,  could  see  me  ! 

It  was  evident  to  me  at  once  that  he  was  in  a  much 
more  dangerous  and  aggressive  mood  than  when  I  had 
seen  him  last.  The  cold  of  the  morning  had  irritated 
him,  and  he  was  hungry  as  well.  With  a  continual 
growl  he  paced  swiftly  up  and  down  the  side  of  the 
room  which  was  farthest  from  my  refuge,  his  whiskers 
bristling  angrily,  and  his  tail  switching  and  lashing. 
As  he  turned  at  the  corners  his  savage  eyes  always 
looked  upwards  at  me  with  a  dreadful  menace.  I  knew 
then  that  he  meant  to  kill  me.  Yet  I  found  myself 
even  at  that  moment  admiring  the  sinuous  grace  of  the 
devilish  thing,  its  long,  undulating,  rippling  move- 
ments, the  gloss  of  its  beautiful  flanks,  the  vivid, 
palpitating  scarlet  of  the  glistening  tongue  which  hung 
from  the  jet-black  muzzle.  And  all  the  time  that 
deep,  threatening  growl  was  rising  and  rising  in  an 


THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT  269 

unbroken  crescendo.  I  knew  that  the  crisis  was  at 
hand. 

It  was  a  miserable  hour  to  meet  such  a  death — so 
cold,  so  comfortless,  shivering  in  my  light  dress  clothes 
upon  this  gridiron  of  torment  upon  which  I  was 
stretched.  I  tried  to  brace  myself  to  it,  to  raise  my 
soul  above  it,  and  at  the  same  time,  with  the  lucidity 
which  comes  to  a  perfectly  desperate  man,  I  cast  round 
for  some  possible  means  of  escape.  One  thing  was 
clear  to  me.  If  that  front  of  the  cage  was  only  back 
in  its  position  once  more,  I  could  find  a  sure  refuge 
behind  it.  Could  I  possibly  pull  it  back  ?  I  hardly 
dared  to  move  for  fear  of  bringing  the  creature  upon 
me.  Slowly,  very  slowly,  I  put  my  hand  forward  until 
it  grasped  the  edge  of  the  front,  the  final  bar  which 
protruded  through  the  wall.  To  my  surprise  it  came 
quite  easily  to  my  jerk.  Of  course  the  difficulty  of 
drawing  it  out  arose  from  the  fact  that  I  was  clinging 
to  it.  I  pulled  again,  and  three  inches  of  it  came 
through.  It  ran  apparently  on  wheels.  I  pulled 
again  .  .  .  and  then  the  cat  sprang  ! 

It  was  so  quick,  so  sudden,  that  I  never  saw  it 
happen.  I  simply  heard  the  savage  snarl,  and  in  an 
instant  afterwards  the  blazing  yellow  eyes,  the  flattened 
black  head  with  its  red  tongue  and  flashing  teeth,  were 
within  reach  of  me.  The  impact  of  the  creature  shook 
the  bars  upon  which  I  lay,  until  I  thought  (as  far  as  I 
could  think  of  anything  at  such  a  moment)  that  they 
were  coming  down.  The  cat  swayed  there  for  an 
instant,  the  head  and  front  paws  quite  close  to  me,  the 
hind  paws  clawing  to  find  a  grip  upon  the  edge  of  the 
grating.     I  heard  the  claws  rasping  as  they  clung  to 


270  THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT 

the  wire  netting,  and  the  breath  of  the  beast  made  me 
sick.  But  its  bound  had  been  miscalculated.  It  could 
not  retain  its  position.  Slowly,  grinning  with  rage  and 
scratching  madly  at  the  bars,  it  swung  backwards  and 
dropped  heavily  upon  the  floor.  With  a  growl  it  instantly 
faced  round  to  me  and  crouched  for  another  spring. 

I  knew  that  the  next  few  moments  would  decide 
my  fate.  The  creature  had  learned  by  experience.  It 
would  not  miscalculate  again.  I  must  act  promptly, 
fearlessly,  if  I  were  to  have  a  chance  for  life.  In  an 
instant  I  had  formed  my  plan.  Pulling  off  my  dress- 
coat,  I  threw  it  down  over  the  head  of  the  beast.  At 
the  same  moment  I  dropped  over  the  edge,  seized  the 
end  of  the  front  grating,  and  pulled  it  frantically  out 
of  the  wall. 

It  came  more  easily  than  I  could  have  expected. 
I  rushed  across  the  room,  bearing  it  with  me ;  but,  as 
I  rushed,  the  accident  of  my  position  put  me  upon  the 
outer  side.  Had  it  been  the  other  way,  I  might  have 
come  off  scathless.  As  it  was,  there  was  a  moment's 
pause  as  I  stopped  it  and  tried  to  pass  in  through  the 
opening  which  I  had  left.  That  moment  was  enough 
to  give  time  to  the  creature  to  toss  off  the  coat  with 
which  I  had  blinded  him  and  to  spring  upon  me.  I 
hurled  myself  through  the  gap  and  pulled  the  rails  to 
behind  me,  but  he  seized  my  leg  before  I  could 
entirely  withdraw  it.  One  stroke  of  that  huge  paw 
tore  off  my  calf  as  a  shaving  of  wood  curls  off  before 
a  plane.  The  next  moment,  bleeding  and  fainting,  I 
was  lying  among  the  foul  straw  with  a  line  of  friendly 
bars  between  me  and  the  creature  which  ramped  so 
frantically  against  them. 


THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT  271 

Too  wounded  to  move,  and  too  faint  to  be  conscious 
of  fear,  I  could  only  lie,  more  dead  than  alive,  and 
watch  it.  It  pressed  its  broad,  black  chest  against  the 
bars  and  angled  for  me  with  its  crooked  paws  as  I  have 
seen  a  kitten  do  before  a  mouse-trap.  It  ripped  my 
clothes,  but,  stretch  as  it  would,  it  could  not  quite 
reach  me.  I  have  heard  of  the  curious  numbing  effect 
produced  by  wounds  from  the  great  carnivora,  and 
now  I  was  destined  to  experience  it,  for  I  had  lost 
all  sense  of  personality,  and  was  as  interested  in 
the  cat's  failure  or  success  as  if  it  were  some  game 
which  I  was  watching.  And  then  gradually  my 
mind  drifted  away  into  strange,  vague  dreams,  always 
with  that  black  face  and  red  tongue  coming  back 
into  them,  and  so  I  lost  myself  in  the  nirvana  of 
delirium,  the  blessed  relief  of  those  who  are  too  sorely 
tried. 

Tracing  the  course  of  events  afterwards,  I  conclude 
that  I  must  have  been  insensible  for  about  two  hours. 
What  roused  me  to  consciousness  once  more  was  that 
sharp  metallic  click  which  had  been  the  precursor  of 
my  terrible  experience.  It  was  the  shooting  back  of 
the  spring  lock.  Then,  before  my  senses  were  clear 
enough  to  entirely  apprehend  what  they  saw,  I  was 
aware  of  the  round,  benevolent  face  of  my  cousin  peer- 
ing in  through  the  opened  door.  What  he  saw  evidently 
amazed  him.  There  was  the  cat  crouching  on  the 
floor.  I  was  stretched  upon  my  back  in  my  shirt- 
sleeves within  the  cage,  my  trousers  torn  to  ribbons 
and  a  great  pool  of  blood  all  round  me.  I  can  see  his 
amazed  face  now,  with  the  morning  sunlight  upon  it. 
He  peered  at  me,  and  peered  again.    Then  he  closed 


272  THE  BKAZILIAN  CAT 

the  door  behind  him,  and  advanced  to  the  cage  to  see 
if  I  were  really  dead. 

I  cannot  undertake  to  say  what  happened.  I  was 
not  in  a  fit  state  to  witness  or  to  chronicle  such  events. 
I  can  only  say  that  I  was  suddenly  conscious  that  his 
face  was  away  from  me — that  he  was  looking  towards 
the  animal. 

"  Good  old  Tommy  !  "  he  cried.  "  Good  old 
Tommy ! " 

Then  he  came  near  the  bars,  with  his  back  still 
towards  me. 

"Down,  you  stupid  beast!"  he  roared.  "Down, 
sir !     Don't  you  know  your  master  ? " 

Suddenly  even  in  my  bemuddled  brain  a  remem- 
brance came  of  those  words  of  his  when  he  had  said 
that  the  taste  of  blood  would  turn  the  cat  into  a  fiend. 
My  blood  had  done  it,  but  he  was  to  pay  the  price. 

"  Get  away ! "  he  screamed.  "  Get  away,  you  devil ! 
Baldwin !     Baldwin !     Oh,  my  God !  " 

And  then  I  heard  him  fall,  and  rise,  and  fall  again, 
with  a  sound  like  the  ripping  of  sacking.  His  screams 
grew  fainter  until  they  were  lost  in  the  worrying  snarl. 
And  then,  after  I  thought  that  he  was  dead,  I  saw,  as 
in  a  nightmare,  a  blinded,  tattered,  blood-soaked  figure 
running  wildly  round  the  room — and  that  was  the  last 
glimpse  which  I  had  of  him  before  I  fainted  once 


I  was  many  months  in  my  recovery — in  fact,  I 
cannot  say  that  I  have  ever  recovered,  for  to  the  end  of 
my  days  I  shall  carry  a  stick  as  a  sign  of  my  night  with 
the  Brazilian  cat.     Baldwin,  the  groom,  and  the  other 


THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT  273 

servants  could  not  tell  what  had  occurred  when,  drawn 
by  the  death  cries  of  their  master,  they  found  me 
behind  the  bars,  and  his  remains — or  what  they  after- 
wards discovered  to  be  his  remains — in  the  clutch  of 
the  creature  which  he  had  reared.  They  stalled  him 
off  with  hot  irons,  and  afterwards  shot  him  through  the 
loophole  of  the  door  before  they  could  finally  extricate 
me.  I  was  carried  to  my  bedroom,  and  there,  under 
the  roof  of  my  would-be  murderer,  I  remained  between 
life  and  death  for  several  weeks.  They  had  sent  for 
a  surgeon  from  Clipton  and  a  nurse  from  London, 
and  in  a  month  I  was  able  to  be  carried  to  the 
station,  and  so  conveyed  back  once  more  to  Grosvenor 
Mansions. 

I  have  one  remembrance  of  that  illness,  which 
might  have  been  part  of  the  ever-changing  panorama 
conjured  up  by  a  delirious  brain  were  it  not  so  definitely 
fixed  in  my  memory.  One  night,  when  the  nurse  was 
absent,  the  door  of  my  chamber  opened,  and  a  tall 
woman  in  blackest  mourning  slipped  into  the  room. 
She  came  across  to  me,  and  as  she  bent  her  sallow 
face  I  saw  by  the  faint  gleam  of  the  night-light  that  it 
was  the  Brazilian  woman  whom  my  cousin  had  married. 
She  stared  intently  into  my  face,  and  her  expression 
was  more  kindly  than  I  had  ever  seen  it. 

"  Are  you  conscious  ?  "  she  asked. 

I  feebly  nodded — for  I  was  still  very  weak. 

"  Well,  then,  I  only  wished  to  say  to  you  that  you 
have  yourself  to  blame.  Did  I  not  do  all  I  could  for 
you  ?  From  the  beginning  I  tried  to  drive  you  from 
the  house.  By  every  means,  short  of  betraying  my 
husband,  I  tried  to  save  you  from  him.    I  knew  that 

T 


274  THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT 

he  had  a  reason  for  bringing  you  here.  I  knew  that  he 
would  never  let  you  get  away  again.  No  one  knew 
him  as  I  knew  him,  who  had  suffered  from  him  so 
often.  I  did  not  dare  to  tell  you  all  this.  He  would 
have  killed  me.  But  I  did  my  best  for  you.  As  things 
have  turned  out,  you  have  been  the  best  friend  that  I 
have  ever  had.  You  have  set  me  free,  and  I  fancied 
that  nothing  but  death  would  do  that.  I  am  sorry  if 
you  are  hurt,  but  I  cannot  reproach  myself.  I  told 
you  that  you  were  a  fool — and  a  fool  you  have  been.'* 
She  crept  out  of  the  room,  the  bitter,  singular  woman, 
and  I  was  never  destined  to  see  her  again.  With  what 
remained  from  her  husband's  property  she  went  back  to 
her  native  land,  and  I  have  heard  that  she  afterwards 
took  the  veil  at  Pernambuco. 

It  was  not  until  I  had  been  back  in  London  for 
some  time  that  the  doctors  pronounced  me  to  be  well 
enough  to  do  business.  It  was  not  a  very  welcome 
permission  to  me,  for  I  feared  that  it  would  be  the  signal 
for  an  inrush  of  creditors ;  but  it  was  Summers,  my 
lawyer,  who  first  took  advantage  of  it. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  that  your  lordship  is  so 
much  better,"  said  he.  *  I  have  been  waiting  a  long 
time  to  offer  my  congratulations." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Summers  ?  This  is  no  time 
for  joking." 

"  I  mean  what  I  say,"  he  answered.  "  You  have 
been  Lord  Southerton  for  the  last  six  weeks,  but  we 
feared  that  it  would  retard  your  recovery  if  you  were 
to  learn  it." 

Lord  Southerton !  One  of  the  richest  peers  in 
England!     I  could  not  believe  my  ears.    And  then 


THE  BRAZILIAN  CAT  275 

suddenly  I  thought  of  the  time  which  had  elapsed,  and 
how  it  coincided  with  my  injuries. 

"  Then  Lord  Southerton  must  have  died  about  the 
same  time  that  I  was  hurt  ?  " 

"  His  death  occurred  upon  that  very  day."  Summers 
looked  hard  at  me  as  I  spoke,  and  I  am  convinced — 
for  he  was  a  very  shrewd  fellow — that  he  had  guessed 
the  true  state  of  the  case.  He  paused  for  a  moment  as 
if  awaiting  a  confidence  from  me,  but  I  could  not  see 
what  was  to  be  gained  by  exposing  such  a  family 
scandal. 

"Yes,  a  very  curious  coincidence,"  he  continued, 
with  the  same  knowing  look.  "  Of  course,  you  are 
aware  that  your  cousin  Everard  King  was  the  next  heir 
to  the  estates.  Now,  if  it  had  been  you  instead  of  him 
who  had  been  torn  to  pieces  by  this  tiger,  or  whatever 
it  was,  then  of  course  he  would  have  been  Lord  Souther- 
ton  at  the  present  moment." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  I. 

"  And  he  took  such  an  interest  in  it,"  said  Summers. 
"I  happen  to  know  that  the  late  Lord  Southerton's 
valet  was  in  his  pay,  and  that  he  used  to  have  tele- 
grams from  him  every  few  hours  to  tell  him  how  he 
was  getting  on.  That  would  be  about  the  time  when 
you  were  down  there.  Was  it  not  strange  that  he 
should  wish  to  be  so  well  informed,  since  he  knew  that 
he  was  not  the  direct  heir  ? " 

*  Very  strange,"  said  I.  "  And  now,  Summers,  if 
you  will  bring  me  my  bills  and  a  new  cheque-book,  we 
will  begin  to  set  things  into  order." 


THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL 

Mr.  Lumsden,  the  senior  partner  of  Lumsden  and 
Westniacott,  the  well-known  scholastic  and  clerical 
agents,  was  a  small,  dapper  man,  with  a  sharp, 
abrupt  manner,  a  critical  eye,  and  an  incisive  way  of 
speaking. 

"  Your  name,  sir  ? "  said  he,  sitting  pen  in  hand  with 
his  long,  red-lined  folio  in  front  of  him. 

"Harold  Weld." 

"  Oxford  or  Cambridge  ? " 

"  Cambridge." 

"Honours?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Athlete?" 

"  Nothing  remarkable,  I  am  afraid." 

"Not  a  Blue?" 

"Oh,  no." 

Mr.  Lumsden  shook  his  head  despondently  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  in  a  way  which  sent  my  hopes 
down  to  zero.  "  There  is  a  very  keen  competition 
for  masterships,  Mr.  Weld,"  said  he.  "  The  vacancies 
are  few  and  the  applicants  innumerable.  A  first-class 
athlete,  oar,  or  cricketer,  or  a  man  who  has  passed  very 
high  in  his  examinations,  can  usually  find  a  vacancy — 
I  might  say  always  in  the  case  of  the  cricketer.    But 

27G 


THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL   277 

the  average  man — if  you  will  excuse  the  description, 
Mr.  Weld — has  a  very  great  difficulty,  almost  an 
insurmountable  difficulty.  We  have  already  more 
than  a  hundred  such  names  upon  our  lists,  and  if  you 
think  it  worth  while  our  adding  yours,  I  daresay  that 
in  the  course  of  some  years  we  may  possibly  be  able  to 
find  you  some  opening  which " 

He  paused  on  account  of  a  knock  at  the  door.  It 
was  a  clerk  with  a  note.  Mr.  Lumsden  broke  the  seal 
and  read  it. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Weld,"  said  he,  "  this  is  really  rather  an 
interesting  coincidence.  I  understand  you  to  say  that 
Latin  and  English  are  your  subjects,  and  that  you 
would  prefer  for  a  time  to  accept  a  place  in  an 
elementary  establishment,  where  you  would  have  time 
for  private  study  ? " 

"  Quite  so." 

"  This  note  contains  a  request  from  an  old  client  of 
ours,  Dr.  Phelps  McCarthy,  of  Willow  Lea  House 
Academy,  West  Hamp3tead,  that  I  should  at  once  send 
him  a  young  man  who  should  be  qualified  to  teach 
Latin  and  English  to  a  small  class  of  boys  under  four- 
teen years  of  age.  His  vacancy  appears  to  be  the  very 
one  which  you  are  looking  for.  The  terms  are  not 
munificent — sixty  pounds,  board,  lodging,  and  washing 
— but  the  work  is  not  onerous,  and  you  would  have 
the  evenings  to  yourself." 

"  That  would  do,"  I  cried,  with  all  the  eagerness  of 
the  man  who  sees  work  at  last  after  weary  months  of 
seeking. 

"  I  don't  know  that  it  is  quite  fair  to  these  gentle- 
men whose  names  have  been  so  long  upon  our  list," 


278   THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL 

said  Mr.  Lumsden,  glancing  down  at  his  open  ledger. 
"  But  the  coincidence  is  so  striking  that  I  feel  we  must 
really  give  you  the  refusal  of  it." 

"  Then  I  accept  it,  sir,  and  I  am  much  obliged  to 
you." 

"There  is  one  small  provision  in  Dr.  McCarthy's 
letter.  He  stipulates  that  the  applicant  must  be  a  man 
with  an  imperturbably  good  temper." 

"  I  am  the  very  man,"  said  I,  with  conviction. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Lumsden,  with  some  hesitation, 
"  I  hope  that  your  temper  is  really  as  good  as  you  say, 
for  I  rather  fancy  that  you  may  need  it." 

"I  presume  that  every  elementary  schoolmaster 
does." 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  it  is  only  fair  to  you  to  warn  you 
that  there  may  be  some  especially  trying  circumstances 
in  this  particular  situation.  Dr.  Phelps  McCarthy 
does  not  make  such  a  condition  without  some  very 
good  and  pressing  reason." 

There  was  a  certain  solemnity  in  his  speech  which 
struck  a  chill  in  the  delight  with  which  I  had  welcomed 
this  providential  vacancy. 

"  May  I  ask  the  nature  of  these  circumstances  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  We  endeavour  to  hold  the  balance  equally  between 
our  clients,  and  to  be  perfectly  frank  with  all  of  them. 
If  I  knew  of  objections  to  you  I  should  certainly  com- 
municate them  to  Dr.  McCarthy,  and  so  I  have  no 
hesitation  in  doing  as  much  for  you.  I  find,"  he  con- 
tinued, glancing  over  the  pages  of  his  ledger,  "  that 
within  the  last  twelve  months  we  have  supplied  no 
fewer  than  seven  Latin  masters  to  Willow  Lea  House 


THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL   279 

Academy,  four  of  them  having  left  so  abruptly  as  to 
forfeit  their  month's  salary,  and  none  of  them  having 
stayed  more  than  eight  weeks." 

"  And  the  other  masters  ?    Have  they  stayed  ? " 

"  There  is  only  one  other  residential  master,  and  he 
appears  to  be  unchanged.  You  can  understand,  Mr. 
Weld,"  continued  the  agent,  closing  both  the  ledger  and 
the  interview,  "  that  such  rapid  changes  are  not  desir- 
able from  a  master's  point  of  view,  whatever  may  be 
said  for  them  by  an  agent  working  on  commission. 
I  have  no  idea  why  these  gentlemen  have  resigned 
their  situations  so  early.  I  can  only  give  you  the 
facts,  and  advise  you  to  see  Dr.  McCarthy  at  once 
and  to  form  your  own  conclusions." 

Great  is  the  power  of  the  man  who  has  nothing  to 
lose,  and  it  was  therefore  with  perfect  serenity,  but 
with  a  good  deal  of  curiosity,  that  I  rang  early  that 
afternoon  the  heavy  wr ought-iron  bell  of  the  Willow 
Lea  House  Academy.  The  building  was  a  massive 
pile,  square  and  ugly,  standing  in  its  own  extensive 
grounds,  with  a  broad  carriage-sweep  curving  up  to  it 
from  the  road.  It  stood  high,  and  commanded  a 
view  on  the  one  side  of  the  grey  roofs  and  bristling 
spires  of  Northern  London,  and  on  the  other  of 
the  well-wooded  and  beautiful  country  which  fringes 
the  great  city.  The  door  was  opened  by  a  boy  in 
buttons,  and  I  was  shown  into  a  well-appointed 
study,  where  the  principal  of  the  academy  presently 
joined  me. 

The  warnings  and  insinuations  of  the  agent  had 
prepared  me  to  meet  a  choleric  and  overbearing 
person— one    whose    manner    was    an    insupportable 


280        THE   USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE   SCHOOL 

provocation  to  those  who  worked  under  him.  Any- 
thing further  from  the  reality  cannot  be  imagined. 
He  was  a  frail,  gentle  creature,  clean-shaven  and 
round-shouldered,  with  a  bearing  which  was  so 
courteous  that  it  became  almost  deprecating.  His 
bushy  hair  was  thickly  shot  with  grey,  and  his  age  I 
should  imagine  to  verge  upon  sixty.  His  voice  was 
low  and  suave,  and  he  walked  with  a  certain  mincing 
delicacy  of  manner.  His  whole  appearance  was  that 
of  a  kindly  scholar,  who  was  more  at  home  among  his 
books  than  in  the  practical  affairs  of  the  world. 

"  I  am  sure  that  we  shaU  be  very  happy  to  have 
your  assistance,  Mr.  Weld,"  said  he,  after  a  few  pro- 
fessional questions.  "Mr.  Percival  Manners  left  me 
yesterday,  and  I  should  be  glad  if  you  could  take  over 
his  duties  to-morrow." 

"  May  I  ask  if  that  is  Mr.  Percival  Manners  of 
Selwyn?"  I  asked. 

"  Precisely.    Did  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he  is  a  friend  of  mine." 

"An  excellent  teacher,  but  a  Httle  hasty  in  his 
disposition.  It  was  his  only  fault.  Now,  in  your 
case,  Mr.  Weld,  is  your  own  temper  under  good  con- 
trol? Supposing  for  argument's  sake  that  I  were  to 
so  far  forget  myself  as  to  be  rude  to  you  or  to  speak 
roughly  or  to  jar  your  feetings  in  any  way,  could  you 
rely  upon  yourself  to  control  your  emotions  ? " 

I  smiled  at  the  idea  of  this  courteous,  little, 
mincing  creature  ruffling  my  nerves. 

"  I  think  that  I  could  answer  for  it,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  Quarrels  are  very  painful  to  me,"  said  he.  "  I 
wish  every  one  to  live  in  harmony  under  my  roof.    I 


THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL   281 

will  not  deny  Mr.  Percival  Manners  had  provocation, 
but  I  wish  to  find  a  man  who  can  raise  himself  above 
provocation,  and  sacrifice  his  own  feelings  for  the  sake 
of  peace  and  concord." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,  sir." 

"  You  cannot  say  more,  Mr.  Weld.  In  that  case  I 
shall  expect  you  to-night,  if  you  can  get  your  things 
ready  so  soon." 

I  not  only  succeeded  in  getting  my  things  ready, 
but  I  found  time  to  call  at  the  Benedict  Club  in  Picca- 
dilly, where  I  knew  that  I  should  find  Manners  if 
he  were  still  in  town.  There  he  was  sure  enough 
in  the  smoking-room,  and  I  questioned  him,  over  a 
cigarette,  as  to  his  reasons  for  throwing  up  his  recent 
situation. 

"You  don't  tell  me  that  you  are  going  to  Dr. 
Phelps  McCarthy's  Academy  ? "  he  cried,  staring  at 
me  in  surprise.  "My  dear  chap,  it's  no  use.  You 
can't  possibly  remain  there." 

"  But  I  saw  him,  and  he  seemed  the  most  courtly, 
inoffensive  fellow.  I  never  met  a  man  with  more 
gentle  manners." 

"He!  oh,  he's  all  right.  There's  no  vice  in  him. 
Have  you  seen  Theophilus  St.  James  ? " 

"  I  have  never  heard  the  name.    Who  is  he  ? " 

"  Your  colleague.    The  other  master." 

"  Ko,  I  have  not  seen  him." 

"He's  the  terror.  If  you  can  stand  him,  you 
have  either  the  spirit  of  a  perfect  Christian  or  else 
you  have  no  spirit  at  all.  A  more  perfect  bounder 
never  bounded." 

"  But  why  does  McCarthy  stand  it  ? " 


282   THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL 

My  friend  looked  at  me  significantly  through  his 
cigarette  smoke,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  wiH  form  your  own  conclusions  about  that. 
Mine  were  formed  very  soon,  and  I  never  found 
occasion  to  alter  them." 

"  It  would  help  me  very  much  if  you  would  teU 
me  them." 

"  When  you  see  a  man  in  his  own  house  allowing 
his  business  to  be  ruined,  his  comfort  destroyed,  and 
his  authority  defied  by  another  man  in  a  subordinate 
position,  and  calmly  submitting  to  it  without  so 
much  as  a  word  of  protest,  what  conclusion  do  you 
come  to  ? " 

"  That  the  one  has  a  hold  over  the  other." 

Percival  Manners  nodded  his  head. 

"  There  you  are !  You've  hit  it  first  barrel.  It 
seems  to  me  that  there's  no  other  explanation  which 
will  cover  the  facts.  At  some  period  in  his  life  the 
little  Doctor  has  gone  astray.  Humanum  est  errare. 
I  have  even  done  it  myself.  But  this  was  something 
serious,  and  the  other  man  got  a  hold  of  it  and  has 
never  let  go.  That's  the  truth.  Blackmail  is  at  the 
bottom  of  it.  But  he  had  no  hold  over  me,  and  there 
was  no  reason  why  I  should  stand  his  insolence,  so  I 
came  away — and  I  very  much  expect  to  see  you  do  the 
same." 

For  some  time  he  talked  over  the  matter,  but  he 
always  came  to  the  same  conclusion — that  I  should  not 
retain  my  new  situation  very  long. 

It  was  with  no  very  pleasant  feelings  after  this 
preparation  that  I  found  myself  face  to  face  with  the 
very  man  of  whom  I  had  received  so  evil  an  account. 


THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL        283 

Dr.  McCarthy  introduced  us  to  each  other  in  his  study 
on  the  evening  of  that  same  day  immediately  after 
my  arrival  at  the  school. 

■  This  is  your  new  colleague,  Mr.  St.  James,"  said 
he,  in  his  genial,  courteous  fashion.  "  I  trust  that 
you  will  mutually  agree,  and  that  I  shall  find  nothing 
but  good  feeling  and  sympathy  beneath  this  roof." 

I  shared  the  good  Doctor's  hope,  but  my  expec- 
tations of  it  were  not  increased  by  the  appearance  of 
my  confrere.  He  was  a  young,  bull-necked  fellow 
about  thirty  years  of  age,  dark-eyed  and  black-haired, 
with  an  exceedingly  vigorous  physique.  I  have  never 
seen  a  more  strongly  built  man,  though  he  tended  to 
run  to  fat  in  a  way  which  showed  that  he  was  in  the 
worst  of  training.  His  face  was  coarse,  swollen,  and 
brutal,  with  a  pair  of  small  black  eyes  deeply  sunken 
in  his  head.  His  heavy  jowl,  his  projecting  ears,  and 
his  thick  bandy  legs  all  went  to  make  up  a  personality 
which  was  as  formidable  as  it  was  repellent. 

"I  hear  you've  never  been  out  before,"  said  he, 
in  a  rude,  brusque  fashion.  "  Well,  it's  a  poor  life : 
hard  work  and  starvation  pay,  as  you'll  find  out  for 
yourself." 

"But  it  has  some  compensations,"  said  the 
principal.  "  Surely  you  wiU  allow  that,  Mr.  St. 
James  ? " 

"  Has  it  ?  I  never  could  find  them.  What  do  you 
caU  compensations  ? " 

"  Even  to  be  in  the  continual  presence  of  youth  is 
a  privilege.  It  has  the  effect  of  keeping  youth  in  one's 
own  soul,  for  one  reflects  something  of  their  high  spirits 
and  their  keen  enjoyment  of  life." 


284        THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL 

"  Little  beasts ! "  cried  my  colleague. 

"Come,  come,  Mr.  St.  James,  you  are  too  hard 
upon  them." 

"  I  hate  the  sight  of  them !  If  I  could  put  them 
and  their  blessed  copybooks  and  lexicons  and  slates 
into  one  bonfire  I'd  do  it  to-night." 

"  This  is  Mr.  St.  James's  way  of  talking,"  said  the 
principal,  smiling  nervously  as  he  glanced  at  me. 
"  You  must  not  take  him  too  seriously.  Now,  Mr. 
Weld,  you  know  where  your  room  is,  and  no  doubt 
you  have  your  own  little  arrangements  to  make.  The 
sooner  you  make  them  the  sooner  you  will  feel  yourself 
at  home." 

It  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  only  too  anxious  to 
remove  me  at  once  from  the  influence  of  this  extra- 
ordinary colleague,  and  I  was  glad  to  go,  for  the 
conversation  had  become  embarrassing. 

And  so  began  an  epoch  which  always  seems  to  me 
as  I  look  back  to  it  to  be  the  most  singular  in  all 
my  experience.  The  school  was  in  many  ways  an 
excellent  one.  Dr.  Phelps  McCarthy  was  an  ideal 
principal.  His  methods  were  modern  and  rational. 
The  management  was  all  that  could  be  desired.  And 
yet  in  the  middle  of  this  well-ordered  machine  there 
intruded  the  incongruous  and  impossible  Mr.  St.  James, 
throwing  everything  into  confusion.  His  duties  were 
to  teach  English  and  mathematics,  and  how  he  ac- 
quitted himself  of  them  I  do  not  know,  as  our  classes 
were  held  in  separate  rooms.  I  can  answer  for  it, 
however,  that  the  boys  feared  him  and  loathed  him, 
and  I  know  that  they  had  good  reason  to  do  so, 
for  frequently  my  own  teaching  was  interrupted  by 


THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL        285 

his  bello wings  of  anger,  and  even  by  the  sound  of  his 
blows.  Dr.  McCarthy  spent  most  of  his  time  in  his 
class,  but  it  was,  I  suspect,  to  watch  over  the  master 
rather  than  the  boys,  and  to  try  to  moderate  his 
ferocious  temper  when  it  threatened  to  become 
dangerous. 

It  was  in  his  bearing  to  the  head  master,  however, 
that  my  colleague's  conduct  was  most  outrageous. 
The  first  conversation  which  I  have  recorded  proved 
to  be  typical  of  their  intercourse.  He  domineered 
over  him  openly  and  brutally.  I  have  heard  him 
contradict  him  roughly  before  the  whole  school.  At 
no  time  would  he  show  him  any  mark  of  respect, 
and  my  temper  often  rose  within  me  when  I  saw  the 
quiet  acquiescence  of  the  old  Doctor,  and  his  patient 
tolerance  of  this  monstrous  treatment.  And  yet  the 
sight  of  it  surrounded  the  principal  also  with  a  certain 
vague  horror  in  my  mind,  for  supposing  my  friend's 
theory  to  be  correct — and  I  could  devise  no  better 
one — how  black  must  have  been  the  story  which 
could  be  held  over  his  head  by  this  man  and,  by  fear 
of  its  publicity,  force  him  to  undergo  such  humilia- 
tions. This  quiet,  gentle  Doctor  might  be  a  profound 
hypocrite,  a  criminal,  a  forger  possibly,  or  a  poisoner. 
Only  such  a  secret  as  this  could  account  for  the 
complete  power  which  the  young  man  held  over  him. 
Why  else  should  he  admit  so  hateful  a  presence  into 
his  house  and  so  harmful  an  influence  into  his  school  ? 
Why  should  he  submit  to  degradations  which  could 
not  be  witnessed,  far  less  endured,  without  indig- 
nation ? 

And  yet,  if  it  were  so,  I  was  forced  to  confess 


286   THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL 

that  my  principal  carried  it  off  with  extraordinary 
duplicity.  Never  by  word  or  sign  did  he  show  that 
the  young  man's  presence  was  distasteful  to  him.  I 
have  seen  him  look  pained,  it  is  true,  after  some 
peculiarly  outrageous  exhibition,  but  he  gave  me  the 
impression  that  it  was  always  on  account  of  the 
scholars  or  of  me,  never  on  account  of  himself.  He 
spoke  to  and  of  St.  James  in  an  indulgent  fashion, 
smiling  gently  at  what  made  my  blood  boil  within 
me.  In  his  way  of  looking  at  him  and  addressing 
him,  one  could  see  no  trace  of  resentment,  but  rather 
a  sort  of  timid  and  deprecating  good  will.  His  com- 
pany he  certainly  courted,  and  they  spent  many  hours 
together  in  the  study  and  the  garden. 

As  to  my  own  relations  with  Theophilus  St.  James, 
I  made  up  my  mind  from  the  beginning  that  I  should 
keep  my  temper  with  him,  and  to  that  resolution  I 
steadfastly  adhered.  If  Dr.  McCarthy  chose  to  permit 
this  disrespect,  and  to  condone  these  outrages,  it  was 
his  affair  and  not  mine.  It  was  evident  that  his  one 
wish  was  that  there  should  be  peace  between  us,  and 
I  felt  that  I  could  help  him  best  by  respecting  this 
desire.  My  easiest  way  to  do  so  was  to  avoid  my 
colleague,  and  this  I  did  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 
When  we  were  thrown  together  I  was  quiet,  polite, 
and  reserved.  He,  on  his  part,  showed  me  no  ill-will, 
but  met  me  rather  with  a  coarse  joviality,  and  a  rough 
familiarity  which  he  meant  to  be  ingratiating.  Ho 
was  insistent  in  his  attempts  to  get  me  into  his  room 
at  night,  for  the  purpose  of  playing  euchre  and  of 
drinking. 

"Old  McCarthy  doesn't  mind,"  said  he.    "Don't 


THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL   287 

you  be  afraid  of  him.  We'll  do  what  we  like,  and 
I'll  answer  for  it  that  he  won't  object."  Once  only 
I  went,  and  when  I  left,  after  a  dull  and  gross 
evening,  my  host  was  stretched  dead  drunk  upon  the 
sofa.  After  that  I  gave  the  excuse  of  a  course  of 
study,  and  spent  my  spare  hours  alone  in  my  own 
room. 

One  point  upon  which  I  was  anxious  to  gain  in- 
formation was  as  to  how  long  these  proceedings  had 
been  going  on.  When  did  St.  James  assert  his  hold 
over  Dr.  McCarthy?  From  neither  of  them  could  I 
learn  how  long  my  colleague  had  been  in  his  present 
situation.  One  or  two  leading  questions  upon  my  part 
were  eluded  or  ignored  in  a  manner  so  marked  that 
it  was  easy  to  see  that  they  were  both  of  them  as 
eager  to  conceal  the  point  as  I  was  to  know  it.  But 
at  last  one  evening  I  had  the  chance  of  a  chat  with 
Mrs.  Carter,  the  matron — for  the  Doctor  was  a  widower 
— and  from  her  I  got  the  information  which  I  wanted. 
It  needed  no  questioning  to  get  at  her  knowledge,  for 
she  was  so  full  of  indignation  that  she  shook  with 
passion  as  she  spoke  of  it,  and  raised  her  hands  into 
the  air  in  the  earnestness  of  her  denunciation,  as  she 
described  the  grievances  which  she  had  against  my 
colleague. 

"It  was  three  years  ago,  Mr.  Weld,  that  he  first 
darkened  this  doorstep,"  she  cried.  "Three  bitter 
years  they  have  been  to  me.  The  school  had  fifty 
boys  then.  Now  it  has  twenty-two.  That's  what  he 
has  done  for  us  in  three  years.  In  another  three 
there  won't  be  one.  And  the  Doctor,  that  angel  of 
patience,  you  see  how  he  treats  him,  though  he  is  not 


288   THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL 

fit  to  lace  his  boots  for  him.  If  it  wasn't  for  the 
Doctor,  you  may  be  sure  that  I  wouldn't  stay  an  hour 
under  the  same  roof  with  such  a  man,  and  so  I-  told 
him  to  his  own  face,  Mr.  Weld.  If  the  Doctor  would 
only  pack  him  about  his  business — but  I  know  that 
I  am  saying  more  than  I  should ! "  She  stopped 
herself  with  an  effort,  and  spoke  no  more  upon  the 
subject.  She  had  remembered  that  I  was  almost  a 
stranger  in  the  school,  and  she  feared  that  she  had 
been  indiscreet. 

There  were  one  or  two  very  singular  points  about 
my  colleague.  The  chief  one  was  that  he  rarely  took 
any  exercise.  There  was  a  playing-field  within  the 
college  grounds,  and  that  was  his  farthest  point.  If 
the  boys  went  out,  it  was  I  or  Dr.  McCarthy  who 
accompanied  them.  St.  James  gave  as  a  reason  for 
this  that  he  had  injured  his  knee  some  years  before, 
and  that  walking  was  painful  to  him.  For  my  own 
part  I  put  it  down  to  pure  laziness  upon  his  part, 
for  he  was  of  an  obese,  heavy  temperament.  Twice, 
however,  I  saw  him  from  my  window  stealing  out  of 
the  grounds  late  at  night,  and  the  second  time  I 
watched  him  return  in  the  grey  of  the  morning  and 
slink  in  through  an  open  window.  These  furtive 
excursions  were  never  alluded  to,  but  they  exposed 
the  hollowness  of  his  story  about  his  knee,  and 
they  increased  the  dislike  and  distrust  which  I  had 
of  the  man.  His  nature  seemed  to  be  vicious  to 
the  core. 

Another  point,  small  but  suggestive,  was  that  he 
hardly  ever  during  the  months  that  I  was  at  Willow 
Lea  House  received  any  letters,  and  on  those  few 


THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL   289 

occasions  they  were  obviously  tradesmen's  bills.  I 
am  an  early  riser,  and  used  every  morning  to  pick 
my  own  correspondence  out  of  the  bundle  upon  the 
hall  table.  I  could  judge  therefore  how  few  were  ever 
there  for  Mr.  Theophilus  St.  James.  There  seemed  to  me 
to  be  something  peculiarly  ominous  in  this.  What  sorb 
of  a  man  could  he  be  who  during  thirty  years  of  life  had 
never  made  a  single  friend,  high  or  low,  who  cared  to 
continue  to  keep  in  touch  with  him  ?  And  yet  the 
sinister  fact  remained  that  the  head  master  not  only 
tolerated,  but  was  even  intimate  with  him.  More  than 
once  on  entering  a  room  I  have  found  them  talking 
confidentially  together,  and  they  would  walk  arm  in 
arm  in  deep  conversation  up  and  down  the  garden 
paths.  So  curious  did  I  become  to  know  what  the  tie 
was  which  bound  them,  that  I  found  it  gradually  push 
out  my  other  interests  and  become  the  main  purpose 
of  my  life.  In  school  and  out  of  school,  at  meals  and 
at  play,  I  was  perpetually  engaged  in  watching  Dr. 
Phelps  McCarthy  and  Mr.  Theophilus  St.  James,  and 
in  endeavouring  to  solve  the  mystery  which  surrounded 
them. 

But,  unfortunately,  my  curiosity  was  a  little  too 
open.  I  had  not  the  art  to  conceal  the  suspicions 
which  I  felt  about  the  relations  which  existed  between 
these  two  men  and  the  nature  of  the  hold  which  the 
one  appeared  to  have  over  the  other.  It  may  have 
been  my  manner  of  watching  them,  it  may  have  been 
some  indiscreet  question,  but  it  is  certain  that  I  showed 
too  clearly  what  I  felt.  One  night  I  was  conscious 
that  the  eyes  of  Theophilus  St.  James  were  fixed  upon 
me  in  a  surly  and  menacing  stare.     I  had  a  foreboding 


290        THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL 

of  evil,  and  I  was  not  surprised  when  Dr.  McCarthy- 
called  me  next  morning  into  his  study. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  Mr.  Weld,"  said  he,  "but  I 
am  afraid  that  I  shall  be  compelled  to  dispense  with 
your  services." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  give  me  some  reason  for  dis- 
missing me,"  I  answered,  for  I  was  conscious  of  having 
done  my  duties  to  the  best  of  my  power,  and  knew 
well  that  only  one  reason  could  be  given. 

"  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  you,"  said  he,  and  the 
colour  came  to  his  cheeks. 

"You  send  me  away  at  the  suggestion  of  my 
colleague." 

His  eyes  turned  away  from  mine. 

"  We  will  not  discuss  the  question,  Mr.  Weld.  It 
is  impossible  for  me  to  discuss  it.  In  justice  to  you, 
I  will  give  you  the  strongest  recommendation  for  your 
next  situation.  I  can  say  no  more.  I  hope  that  you 
will  continue  your  duties  here  until  you  have  found  a 
place  elsewhere." 

My  whole  soul  rose  against  the  injustice  of  it,  and 
yet  I  had  no  appeal  and  no  redress.  I  could  only  bow 
and  leave  the  room,  with  a  bitter  sense  of  ill-usage  at 
my  heart. 

My  first  instinct  was  to  pack  my  boxes  and  leave 
the  house.  But  the  head  master  had  given  me  per- 
mission to  remain  until  I  had  found  another  situation. 
I  was  sure  that  St.  James  desired  me  to  go,  and  that 
was  a  strong  reason  why  I  should  stay.  If  my  presence 
annoyed  him,  I  should  give  him  as  much  of  it  as  I 
could.  I  had  begun  to  hate  him  and  to  long  to  have 
my  revenge  upon  him.      If  he  had  a  hold  over  our 


THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL   291 

principal,  might  not  I  in  turn  obtain  one  over  him  ? 
It  was  a  sign  of  weakness  that  he  should  be  so 
afraid  of  my  curiosity.  He  would  not  resent  it  so 
much  if  he  had  not  something  to  fear  from  it.  I 
entered  my  name  once  more  upon  the  books  of  the 
agents,  but  meanwhile  t  continued  to  fulfil  my 
duties  at  Willow  Lea  House,  and  so  it  came  about 
that  I  was  present  at  the  denouement  of  this  singular 
situation. 

During  that  week — for  it  was  only  a  week  before 
the  crisis  came— I  was  in  the  habit  of  going  down  each 
evening,  after  the  work  of  the  day  was  done,  to  inquire 
about  my  new  arrangements.  One  night,  it  was  a  cold 
and  windy  evening  in  March,  I  had  just  stepped  out 
from  the  hall  door  when  a  strange  sight  met  my  eyes. 
A  man  was  crouching  before  one  of  the  windows  of  the 
house.  His  knees  were  bent  and  his  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  the  small  line  of  light  between  the  curtain  and 
the  sash.  The  window  threw  a  square  of  brightness  in 
front  of  it,  and  in  the  middle  of  this  the  dark  shadow 
of  this  ominous  visitor  showed  clear  and  hard.  It  was 
but  for  an  instant  that  I  saw  him,  for  he  glanced  up 
and  was  off  in  a  moment  through  the  shrubbery.  I 
could  hear  the  patter  of  his  feet  as  he  ran  down  the 
road,  until  it  died  away  in  the  distance. 

It  was  evidently  my  duty  to  turn  back  and  to  tell 
Dr.  McCarthy  what  I  had  seen.  I  found  him  in  his 
study.  I  had  expected  him  to  be  disturbed  at  such  an 
incident,  but  I  was  not  prepared  for  the  state  of  panic 
into  which  he  fell.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
white  and  gasping,  like  one  who  has  received  a  mortal 
blow. 


292        THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL 

"Which  window,  Mr.  Weld?"  he  asked,  wiping 
his  forehead.     "  Which  window  was  it  ?  " 

"The  next  to  the  dining-room — Mr.  St.  James's 
window." 

"  Dear  me !  Dear  me !  This  is,  indeed,  unfortu- 
nate! A  man  looking  through  Mr.  St.  James's 
window ! "  He  wrung  his  hands  like  a  man  who  is 
at  his  wits'  end  what  to  do. 

"  I  shaU  be  passing  the  police-station,  sir.  Would 
you  wish  me  to  mention  the  matter  ? " 

"  No,  no,"  he  cried,  suddenly,  mastering  his  extreme 
agitation;  "I  have  no  doubt  that  it  was  some  poor 
tramp  who  intended  to  beg.  I  attach  no  importance 
to  the  incident — none  at  all.  Don't  let  me  detain  you, 
Mr.  Weld,  if  you  wish  to  go  out." 

I  left  him  sitting  in  his  study  with  reassuring  words 
upon  his]  lips,  but  with  horror  upon  his  face.  My 
heart  was  heavy  for  my  little  employer  as  I  started  off 
once  more  for  town.  As  I  looked  back  from  the  gate 
at  the  square  of  light  which  marked  the  window  of  my 
colleague,  I  suddenly  saw  the  black  outline  of  Dr. 
McCarthy's  figure  passing  against  the  lamp.  He  had 
hastened  from  his  study  then  to  tell  St.  James  what  he 
had  heard.  What  was  the  meaning  of  it  all,  this 
atmosphere  of  mystery,  this  inexplicable  terror,  these 
confidences  between  two  such  dissimilar  men?  I 
thought  and  thought  as  I  walked,  but  do  what  I 
would  I  could  not  hit  upon  any  adequate  conclusion. 
I  little  knew  how  near  I  was  to  the  solution  of  the 
problem. 

It  was  very  late — nearly  twelve  o'clock — when  I 
returned,  and  the  lights  were  all  out  save  one  in  the 


THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL   293 

Doctor's  study.  The  black,  gloomy  house  loomed 
before  me  as  I  walked  up  the  drive,  its  sombre  bulk 
broken  only  by  the  one  glimmering  point  of  brightness. 
I  let  myself  in  with  my  latch-key,  and  was  about  to 
enter  my  own  room  when  my  attention  was  arrested  by 
a  short,  sharp  cry  like  that  of  a  man  in  pain.  I 
stood  and  listened,  my  hand  upon  the  handle  of  my 
door. 

All  was  silent  in  the  house  save  for  a  distant 
murmur  of  voices  which  came,  I  knew,  from  the 
Doctor's  room.  I  stole  quietly  down  the  corridor  in 
that  direction.  The  sound  resolved  itself  now  into 
two  voices,  the  rough  bullying  tones  of  St.  James  and 
the  lower  tone  of  the  Doctor,  the  one  apparently 
insisting  and  the  other  arguing  and  pleading.  Four 
thin  lines  of  light  in  the  blackness  showed  me  the  door 
of  the  Doctor's  room,  and  step  by  step  I  drew  nearer 
to  it  in  the  darkness.  St.  James's  voice  within  rose 
louder  and  louder,  and  his  words  now  came  plainly  to 
my  ear. 

"  I'll  have  every  pound  of  it.  If  you  won't  give  it 
me  I'll  take  it.     Do  you  hear  ? " 

Dr.  McCarthy's  reply  was  inaudible,  but  the  angry 
voice  broke  in  again. 

"  Leave  you  destitute !  I  leave  you  this  little  gold- 
mine of  a  school,  and  that's  enough  for  one  old  man,  is 
it  not?  How  am  I  to  set  up  in  Australia  without 
money  ?    Answer  me  that !  " 

Again  the  Doctor  said  something  in  a  soothing 
voice,  but  his  answer  only  roused  his  companion  to  a 
higher  pitch  of  fury. 

"Done    for    me!      What    have    you    ever    done 


294       THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL 

for  me  except  what  you  couldn't  help  doing  ?  It 
was  for  your  good  name,  not  for  my  safety,  that 
you  cared.  But  enough  cackle !  I  must  get  on  my 
way  before  morning.  Will  you  open  your  safe  or 
will  you  not  ?  " 

"  Oh,  James,  how  can  you  use  me  so  ? "  cried  a 
wailing  voice,  and  then  there  came  a  sudden  little 
scream  of  pain.  At  the  sound  of  that  helpless  appeal 
from  brutal  violence  I  lost  for  once  that  temper  upon 
which  I  had  prided  myself.  Every  bit  of  manhood  in 
me  cried  out  against  any  further  neutrality.  With  my 
walking  cane  in  my  hand  I  rushed  into  the  study.  As 
I  did  so  I  was  conscious  that  the  hall-door  bell  was 
violently  ringing. 

"  You  villain !  "  I  cried,  "  let  him  go  ! " 

The  two  men  were  standing  in  front  of  a  small  safe, 
which  stood  against  one  wall  of  the  Doctor's  room. 
St.  James  held  the  old  man  by  the  wrist,  and  he  had 
twisted  his  arm  round  in  order  to  force  him  to  produce 
the  key.  My  little  head  master,  white  but  resolute, 
was  struggling  furiously  in  the  grip  of  the  burly 
athlete.  The  bully  glared  over  his  shoulder  at  me 
with  a  mixture  of  fury  and  terror  upon  his  brutal 
features.  Then,  realizing  that  I  was  alone,  ho 
dropped  his  victim  and  made  for  me  with  a  horrible 
curse. 

"You  infernal  spy!"  he  cried.  "I'll  do  for  you 
anyhow  before  I  leave." 

I  am  not  a  very  strong  man,  and  I  realized  that 
I  was  helpless  if  once  at  close  quarters.  Twice  I 
cut  at  him  with  my  stick,  but  he  rushed  in  at  me 
with    a    murderous    growl,    and    seized    me   by   the 


THE   USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL       295 

throat  with  both  his  muscular  hands.  I  fell  back- 
wards and  he  on  the  top  of  me,  with  a  grip  which 
was  squeezing  the  life  from  me.  I  was  conscious  of 
his  malignant  yellow-tinged  eyes  within  a  few  inches 
of  my  own,  and  then  with  a  beating  of  pulses  in 
my  head  and  a  singing  in  my  ears,  my  senses  slipped 
away  from  me.  But  even  in  that  supreme  moment 
I  was  aware  that  the  door-bell  was  still  violently 
ringing. 

When  I  came  to  myself,  I  was  lying  upon  the 
sofa  in  Dr.  McCarthy's  study,  and  the  Doctor  him- 
self was  seated  beside  me.  He  appeared  to  be 
watching  me  intently  and  anxiously,  for  as  I 
opened  my  eyes  and  looked  about  me  he  gave  a 
great  cry  of  relief.  "  Thank  God ! "  he  cried.  *  Thank 
God!" 

"  Where  is  he  ? "  I  asked,  looking  round  the  room. 
As  I  did  so,  I  became  aware  that  the  furniture  was 
scattered  in  every  direction,  and  that  there  were 
traces  of  an  even  more  violent  struggle  than  that  in 
which  I  had  been  engaged. 

The  Doctor  sank  his  face  between  his  hands. 

"  They  have  him,"  he  groaned.  "  After  these 
years  of  trial  they  have  him  again.  But  how  thank- 
ful I  am  that  he  has  not  for  a  second  time  stained 
his  hands  in  blood." 

As  the  Doctor  spoke  I  became  aware  that  a  man 
in  the  braided  jacket  of  an  inspector  of  police  was 
standing  in  the  doorway. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  remarked,  "  you  have  had  a  pretty 
narrow  escape.  If  we  had  not  got  in  when  we  did, 
you  would   not  be  here   to  tell   the  tale.    I  don't 


296   THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL 

know  that  I  ever  saw  any  one  much  nearer  to  the 
undertaker." 

I  sat  up  with  my  hands  to  my  throbbing  head. 

"Dr.  McCarthy,"  said  I,  "this  is  aU  a  mystery 
to  me.  I  should  be  glad  if  you  could  explain  to 
me  who  this  man  is,  and  why  you  have  tolerated 
him  so  long  in  your  house." 

"I  owe  you  an  explanation,  Mr.  Weld — and  the 
more  so  since  you  have,  in  so  chivalrous  a  fashion, 
almost  sacrificed  your  life  in  my  defence.  There 
is  no  reason  now  for  secrecy.  In  a  word,  Mr.  Weld, 
this  unhappy  man's  real  name  is  James  McCarthy, 
and  he  is  my  only  son." 

"  Your  son  ? " 

"Alas,  yes.  What  sin  have  I  ever  committed 
that  I  should  have  such  a  punishment  ?  He  has 
made  my  whole  life  a  misery  from  the  first  years 
of  his  boyhood.  Violent,  headstrong,  selfish,  un- 
principled, he  has  always  been  the  same.  At  eighteen 
he  was  a  criminal.  At  twenty,  in  a  paroxysm  of 
passion,  he  took  the  life  of  a  boon  companion  and 
was  tried  for  murder.  He  only  just  escaped  the 
gallows,  and  he  was  condemned  to  penal  servitude. 
Three  years  ago  he  succeeded  in  escaping,  and 
managed,  in  face  of  a  thousand  obstacles,  to  reach 
my  house  in  London.  My  wife's  heart  had  been 
broken  by  his  condemnation,  and  as  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  a  suit  of  ordinary  clothes,  there 
was  no  one  here  to  recognize  him.  For  months  he 
lay  concealed  in  the  attics  until  the  first  search 
of  the  police  should  be  over.  Then  I  gave  him 
employment  here,  as  you  have  seen,  though   by  his 


THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL   297 

rough  and  overbearing  manners  he  made  my  own 
life  miserable,  and  that  of  his  fellow-masters  unbear- 
able. You  have  been  with  us  for  four  months, 
Mr.  Weld,  but  no  other  master  endured  him  so 
long.  I  apologize  now  for  all  you  have  had  to 
submit  to,  but  I  ask  you  what  else  could  I  do  ? 
For  his  dead  mother's  sake  I  could  not  let  harm 
come  to  him  as  long  as  it  was  in  my  power  to 
fend  it  off.  Only  under  my  roof  could  he  find 
a  refuge  —  the  only  spot  in  all  the  world  —  and 
how  could  I  keep  him  here  without  its  exciting 
remark  unless  I  gave  him  some  occupation  ?  I 
made  him  English  master  therefore,  and  in  that 
capacity  I  have  protected  him  here  for  three  years. 
You  have  no  doubt  observed  that  he  never  during 
the  daytime  went  beyond  the  college  grounds.  You 
now  understand  the  reason.  But  when  to-night 
you  came  to  me  with  your  report  of  a  man  who 
was  looking  through  his  window,  I  understood  that 
his  retreat  was  at  last  discovered.  I  besought  him 
to  fly  at  once,  but  he  had  been  drinking,  the 
unhappy  fellow,  and  my  words  fell  upon  deaf  ears. 
When  at  last  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  he 
wished  to  take  from  me  in  his  flight  every  shilling 
which  I  possessed.  It  was  your  entrance  which 
saved  me  from  him,  while  the  police  in  turn 
arrived  only  just  in  time  to  rescue  you.  I  have 
made  myself  amenable  to  the  law  by  harbouring 
an  escaped  prisoner,  and  remain  here  in  the  custody 
of  the  inspector,  but  a  prison  has  no  terrors  for 
me  after  what  I  have  endured  in  this  house  during 
the  last  three  years." 


298        THE  USHER  OF  LEA  HOUSE  SCHOOL 

"It  seems  to  me,  Doctor/ '  said  the  inspector, 
"that,  if  you  have  broken  the  law,  you  have  had 
quite  enough  punishment  already." 

"  God  knows  I  have ! "  cried  Dr.  McCarthy,  and 
sank  his  haggard  face  upon  his  hands. 


THE   BROWN   HAND 

Every  one  knows  that  Sir  Dominick  Holden,  the 
famous  Indian  surgeon,  made  me  his  heir,  and  that 
his  death  changed  me  in  an  hour  from  a  hard- 
working and  impecunious  medical  man  to  a  well- 
to-do  landed  proprietor.  Many  know  also  that  there 
were  at  least  five  people  between  the  inheritance 
and  me,  and  that  Sir  Dominick's  selection  appeared 
to  be  altogether  arbitrary  and  whimsical.  I  can 
assure  them,  however,  that  they  are  quite  mistaken, 
and  that,  although  I  only  knew  Sir  Dominick  in 
the  closing  years  of  his  life,  there  were  none  the 
less  very  real  reasons  why  he  should  show  his 
goodwill  towards  me.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  though 
I  say  it  myself,  no  man  ever  did  more  for  another 
than  I  did  for  my  Indian  uncle.  I  cannot  expect 
the  story  to  be  believed,  but  it  is  so  singular  that 
I  should  feel  that  it  was  a  breach  of  duty  if  I 
did  not  put  it  upon  record — so  here  it  is,  and 
your  belief  or  incredulity  is  your  own  affair. 

Sir  Dominick  Holden,  C.B.,  K.C.S.I,  and  I  don't 
know  what  besides,  was  the  most  distinguished  Indian 
surgeon  of  his  day.  In  the  Army  originally,  he 
afterwards  settled  down  into  civil  practice  in  Bombay, 
and  visited  as  a  consultant  every  part  of  India.     His 

299 


300  THE   BROWN  HAND 

name  is  best  remembered  in  connection  with  the 
Oriental  Hospital,  which  he  founded  and  supported. 
The  time  came,  however,  when  his  iron  constitution 
began  to  show  signs  of  the  long  strain  to  which  he 
had  subjected  it,  and  his  brother  practitioners  (who 
were  not,  perhaps,  entirely  disinterested  upon  the 
point)  were  unanimous  in  recommending  him  to 
return  to  England.  He  held  on  so  long  as  he 
could,  but  at  last  he  developed  nervous  symptoms 
of  a  very  pronounced  character,  and  so  came  back, 
a  broken  man,  to  his  native  county  of  Wiltshire. 
He  bought  a  considerable  estate  with  an  ancient 
manor-house  upon  the  edge  of  Salisbury  Plain,  and 
devoted  his  old  age  to  the  study  of  Comparative 
Pathology,  which  had  been  his  learned  hobby  all  his 
life,  and  in  which  he  was  a  foremost  authority. 

We  of  the  family  were,  as  may  be  imagined, 
much  excited  by  the  news  of  the  return  of  this  rich 
and  childless  uncle  to  England.  On  his  part,  although 
by  no  means  exuberant  in  his  hospitality,  he  showed 
some  sense  of  his  duty  to  his  relations,  and  each  of 
us  in  turn  had  an  invitation  to  visit  him.  From  the 
accounts  of  my  cousins  it  appeared  to  be  a  melancholy 
business,  and  it  was  with  mixed  feelings  that  I  at 
last  received  my  own  summons  to  appear  at  Eoden- 
hurst.  My  wife  was  so  carefully  excluded  in  the 
invitation  that  my  first  impulse  was  to  refuse  it, 
but  the  interests  of  the  children  had  to  be  considered, 
and  so,  with  her  consent,  I  set  out  one  October 
afternoon  upon  my  visit  to  Wiltshire,  with  little 
thought  of  what  that  visit  was  to  entail. 

My  uncle's  estate  was  situated  where  the  arable 


THE  BROWN  HAND  301 

land  of  the  plains  begins  to  swell  upwards  into  the 
rounded  chalk  hills  which  are  characteristic  of  the 
county.  As  I  drove  from  Din  ton  Station  in  the  waning 
light  of  that  autumn  day,  I  was  impressed  by  the  weird 
nature  of  the  scenery.  The  few  scattered  cottages 
of  the  peasants  were  so  dwarfed  by  the  huge  evidences 
of  prehistoric  life,  that  the  present  appeared  to  be  a 
dream  and  the  past  to  be  the  obtrusive  and  master- 
ful reality.  The  road  wound  through  the  valleys, 
formed  by  a  succession  of  grassy  hills,  and  the  summit 
of  each  was  cut  and  carved  into  the  most  elaborate 
fortifications,  some  circular  and  some  square,  but 
all  on  a  scale  which  has  defied  the  winds  and  the 
rains  of  many  centuries.  Some  call  them  Roman 
and  some  British,  but  their  true  origin  and  the  reasons 
for  this  particular  tract  of  country  being  so  interlaced 
with  entrenchments  have  never  been  finally  made 
clear.  Here  and  there  on  the  long,  smooth,  olive- 
coloured  slopes  there  rose  small  rounded  barrows 
or  tumuH.  Beneath  them  lie  the  cremated  ashes 
of  the  race  which  cut  so  deeply  into  the  hills,  but 
their  graves  tell  us  nothing  save  that  a  jar  full  of 
dust  represents  the  man  who  once  laboured  under 
the  sun. 

It  was  through  this  weird  country  that  I  ap- 
proached my  uncle's  residence  of  Eodenhurst,  and 
the  house  was,  as  I  found,  in  due  keeping  with 
its  surroundings.  Two  broken  and  weather-stained 
pillars,  each  surmounted  by  a  mutilated  heraldic 
emblem,  flanked  the  entrance  to  a  neglected  drive. 
A  cold  wind  whistled  through  the  elms  which 
lined  it,  and  the  air  was  full  of  the  drifting  leaves. 


302  THE  BROWN  HAND 

At  the  far  end,  under  the  gloomy  arch  of  trees,  a 
single  yellow  lamp  burned  steadily.  In  the  dim 
half-light  of  the  coming  night  I  saw  a  long,  low 
building  stretching  out  two  irregular  wings,  with 
deep  eaves,  a  sloping  gambrel  roof,  and  walls  which 
were  criss-crossed  with  timber  balks  in  the  fashion 
of  the  Tudors.  The  cheery  light  of  a  fire  flickered 
in  the  broad,  latticed  window  to  the  left  of  the  low- 
porched  door,  and  this,  as  it  proved,  marked  the 
study  of  my  uncle,  for  it  was  thither  that  I  was 
led  by  his  butler  in  order  to  make  my  host's  ac- 
quaintance. 

He  was  cowering  over  his  fire,  for  the  moist  chill 
of  an  English  autumn  had  set  him  shivering.  His 
lamp  was  unlit,  and  I  only  saw  the  red  glow  of 
the  embers  beating  upon  a  huge,  craggy  face,  with 
a  Bed  Indian  nose  and  cheek,  and  deep  furrows 
and  seams  from  eye  to  chin,  the  sinister  marks  of 
hidden  volcanic  fires.  He  sprang  up  at  my  entrance 
with  something  of  an  old-world  courtesy  and  welcomed 
me  warmly  to  Eodenhurst.  At  the  same  time  I  was 
conscious,  as  the  lamp  was  carried  in,  that  it  was 
a  very  critical  pair  of  light-blue  eyes  which  looked 
out  at  me  from  under  shaggy  eyebrows,  like  scouts 
beneath  a  bush,  and  that  this  outlandish  uncle  of 
mine  was  carefully  reading  off  my  character  with  all 
the  ease  of  a  practised  observer  and  an  experienced 
man  of  the  world. 

For  my  part  I  looked  at  him,  and  looked  again, 
for  I  had  never  seen  a  man  whose  appearance  was 
more  fitted  to  hold  one's  attention.  His  figure  was 
the  framework  of  a  giant,  but  he  had  fallen  away 


THE  BROWN  HAND  303 

until  his  coat  dangled  straight  down  in  a  shocking 
fashion  from  a  pair  of   broad  and  bony  shoulders. 
All  his  limbs  were  huge  and  yet  emaciated,  and  I 
could  not  take  my  gaze  from  his  knobby  wrists,  and 
long,  gnarled  hands.      But  his  eyes — those  peering 
light-blue  eyes — they  were  the  most  arrestive  of  any 
of  his  peculiarities.     It  was  not  their  colour  alone, 
nor  was  it  the  ambush  of  hair  in  which  they  lurked ; 
but  it  was  the  expression  which  I  read  in    them. 
For  the  appearance  and  bearing  of   the  man  were 
masterful,  and  one  expected  a  certain  corresponding 
arrogance  in  his  eyes,  but  instead  of  that  I  read  the 
look  which  tells  of  a  spirit  cowed  and  crushed,  the 
furtive,  expectant  look  of  the  dog  whose  master  has 
taken  the  whip  from  the  rack.     I  formed  my  own 
medical  diagnosis  upon  one  glance  at  those  critical 
and  yet  appealing  eyes.      I  believed    that   he   was 
stricken  with   some    mortal  ailment,   that  he    knew 
himself  to  be  exposed  to  sudden  death,  and  that  he 
lived  in  terror  of  it.     Such  was  my  judgment — a  false 
one,  as  the  event  showed;   but  I  mention  it  that  it 
may  help  you  to  realize  the  look  which  I  read  in 
his  eyes. 

My  uncle's  welcome  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  courteous 
one,  and  in  an  hour  or  so  I  found  myself  seated 
between  him  and  his  wife  at  a  comfortable  dinner, 
with  curious  pungent  delicacies  upon  the  table,  and  a 
stealthy,  quick-eyed  Oriental  waiter  behind  his  chair. 
The  old  couple  had  come  round  to  that  tragic  imitation 
of  the  dawn  of  life  when  husband  and  wife,  having 
lost  or  scattered  aU  those  who  were  their  intimates, 
find  themselves  face   to  face   and  alone   once  more, 


304  THE  BROWN  HAND 

their  work  done,  and  the  end  nearing  fast.  Those  who 
have  reached  that  stage  in  sweetness  and  love,  who 
can  change  their  winter  into  a  gentle  Indian  summer, 
have  come  as  victors  through  the  ordeal  of  life.  Lady 
Holden  was  a  small,  alert  woman,  with  a  kindly  eye, 
and  her  expression  as  she  glanced  at  him  was  a 
certificate  of  character  to  her  husband.  And  yet, 
though  I  read  a  mutual  love  in  their  glances,  I  read 
also  a  mutual  horror,  and  recognized  in  her  face  some 
reflection  of  that  stealthy  fear  which  I  detected  in  his. 
Their  talk  was  sometimes  merry  and  sometimes  sad, 
but  there  was  a  forced  note  in  their  merriment  and 
a  naturalness  in  their  sadness  which  told  me  that  a 
heavy  heart  beat  upon  either  side  of  me. 

We  were  sitting  over  our  first  glass  of  wine,  and 
the  servants  had  left  the  room,  when  the  conversation 
took  a  turn  which  produced  a  remarkable  effect  upon 
my  host  and  hostess.  I  cannot  recall  what  it  was 
which  started  the  topic  of  the  supernatural,  but  it 
ended  in  my  showing  them  that  the  abnormal  in 
psychical  experiences  was  a  subject  to  which  I  had, 
like  many  neurologists,  devoted  a  great  deal  of  atten- 
tion. I  concluded  by  narrating  my  experiences  when, 
as  a  member  of  the  Psychical  Eesearch  Society,  I  had 
formed  one  of  a  committee  of  three  who  spent  the 
night  in  a  haunted  house.  Our  adventures  were 
neither  exciting  nor  convincing,  but,  such  as  it  was, 
the  story  appeared  to  interest  my  auditors  in  a 
remarkable  degree.  They  listened  with  an  eager 
silence,  and  I  caught  a  look  of  intelligence  between 
them  which  I  could  not  understand.  Lady  Holden 
immediately  afterwards  rose  and  left  the  room. 


THE  BROWN  HAND  305 

Sir  Dominick  pushed  the  cigar-box  over  to  me, 
and  we  smoked  for  some  little  time  in  silence.  That 
huge  bony  hand  of  his  was  twitching  as  he  raised  it 
with  his  cheroot  to  his  lips,  and  I  felt  that  the  man's 
nerves  were  vibrating  like  fiddle-strings.  My  instincts 
told  me  that  he  was  on  the  verge  of  some  intimate 
confidence,  and  I  feared  to  speak  lest  I  should  inter- 
rupt it.  At  last  he  turned  towards  me  with  a  spas- 
modic gesture  like  a  man  who  throws  his  last  scruple 
to  the  winds. 

"  From  the  little  that  I  have  seen  of  you  it  appears 
to  me,  Dr.  Hardacre,"  said  he,  "  that  you  are  the  very 
man  I  have  wanted  to  meet." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,  sir." 

"Your  head  seems  to  be  cool  and  steady.  You 
will  acquit  me  of  any  desire  to  flatter  you,  for  the 
circumstances  are  too  serious  to  permit  of  insincerities. 
You  have  some  special  knowledge  upon  these  subjects, 
and  you  evidently  view  them  from  that  philosophical 
standpoint  which  robs  them  of  all  vulgar  terror.  I 
presume  that  the  sight  of  an  apparition  would  not 
seriously  discompose  you  ? " 

"I  think  not,  sir." 

"  Would  even  interest  you,  perhaps  ? " 

"  Most  intensely." 

"As  a  psychical  observer,  you  would  probably 
investigate  it  in  as  impersonal  a  fashion  as  an 
astronomer  investigates  a  wandering  comet  ? " 

*'  Precisely." 

He  gave  a  heavy  sigh. 

"  Believe  me,  Dr.  Hardacre,  there  was  a  time  when 
I  could  have  spoken  as  you  do  now.    My  nerve  was 

x 


306  THE  BROWN  HAND 

a  by- word  in  India.  Even  the  Mutiny  never  shook 
it  for  an  instant.  And  yet  you  see  what  I  am  reduced 
to — the  most  timorous  man,  perhaps,  in  all  this  county 
of  Wiltshire.  Do  not  speak  too  bravely  upon  this 
subject,  or  you  may  find  yourself  subjected  to  as  long- 
drawn  a  test  as  I  am — a  test  which  can  only  end  in 
the  madhouse  or  the  grave." 

I  waited  patiently  until  he  should  see  fit  to  go 
farther  in  his  confidence.  His  preamble  had,  I  need 
not  say,  filled  me  with  interest  and  expectation. 

"For  some  years,  Dr.  Hardacre,"  he  continued, 
"  my  life  and  that  of  my  wife  have  been  made  miser- 
able by  a  cause  which  is  so  grotesque  that  it  borders 
upon  the  ludicrous.  And  yet  familiarity  has  never 
made  it  more  easy  to  bear — on  the  contrary,  as  time 
passes  my  nerves  become  more  worn  and  shattered 
by  the  constant  attrition.  If  you  have  no  physical 
fears,  Dr.  Hardacre,  I  should  very  much  value 
your  opinion  upon  this  phenomenon  which  troubles 
us  so." 

"For  what  it  is  worth  my  opinion  is  entirely  at 
your  service.  May  I  ask  the  nature  of  the  phe- 
nomenon ? " 

"  I  think  that  your  experiences  will  have  a  higher 
evidential  value  if  you  are  not  told  in  advance  what 
you  may  expect  to  encounter.  You  are  yourself  aware 
of  the  quibbles  of  unconscious  cerebration  and  sub- 
jective impressions  with  which  a  scientific  sceptic  may 
throw  a  doubt  upon  your  statement.  It  would  be  as 
well  to  guard  against  them  in  advanoe." 

"What  shall  I  do,  then?" 

"  I  will  tell  you.    Would  you  mind  following  me 


THE  BROWN  HAND  307 

this  way  ? "  He  led  me  out  of  the  dining-room  and 
down  a  long  passage  until  we  came  to  a  terminal  door. 
Inside  there  was  a  large  bare  room  fitted  as  a  labora- 
tory, with  numerous  scientific  instruments  and  bottles. 
A  shelf  ran  along  one  side,  upon  which  there  stood  a 
long  line  of  glass  jars  containing  pathological  and 
anatomical  specimens. 

"You  see  that  I  still  dabble  in  some  of  my  old 
studies,"  said  Sir  Dominick.  "These  jars  are  the 
remains  of  what  was  once  a  most  excellent  collection, 
but  unfortunately  I  lost  the  greater  part  of  them  when 
my  house  was  burned  down  in  Bombay  in  '92.  It  was 
a  most  unfortunate  affair  for  me — in  more  ways  than 
one.  I  had  examples  of  many  rare  conditions,  and 
my  splenic  collection  was  probably  unique.  These 
are  the  survivors." 

I  glanced  over  them,  and  saw  that  they  really 
were  of  a  very  great  value  and  rarity  from  a  patho- 
logical point  of  view :  bloated  organs,  gaping  cysts, 
distorted  bones,  odious  parasites — a  singular  exhi- 
bition of  the  products  of  India. 

"There  is,  as  you  see,  a  small  settee  here,"  said 
my  host.  "  It  was  far  from  our  intention  to  offer  a 
guest  so  meagre  an  accommodation,  but  since  affairs 
have  taken  this  turn,  it  would  be  a  great  kindness 
upon  your  part  if  you  would  consent  to  spend  the 
night  in  this  apartment.  I  beg  that  you  will  not 
hesitate  to  let  me  know  if  the  idea  should  be  at  all 
repugnant  to  you." 

"On  the  contrary,"  I  said,  "it  is  most  accept- 
able." 

"My  own  room  is  the  second  on  the  left,  so  that 


308  THE  BROWN  HAND 

if  you  should  feel  that  you  are  in  need  of  company  a 
call  would  always  bring  me  to  your  side." 

"I  trust  that  I  shall  not  be  compelled  to  disturb 

you." 

"  It  is  unlikely  that  I  shall  be  asleep.  I  do  not 
sleep  much.    Do  not  hesitate  to  summon  me." 

And  so  with  this  agreement  we  joined  Lady 
Holden  in  the  drawing-room  and  talked  of  lighter 
things. 

It  was  no  affectation  upon  my  part  to  say  that  the 
prospect  of  my  night's  adventure  was  an  agreeable  one. 
I  have  no  pretence  to  greater  physical  courage  than 
my  neighbours,  but  familiarity  with  a  subject  robs  it 
of  those  vague  and  undefined  terrors  which  are  the 
most  appalling  to  the  imaginative  mind.  The  human 
brain  is  capable  of  only  one  strong  emotion  at  a  time, 
and  if  it  be  filled  with  curiosity  or  scientific  enthusiasm, 
there  is  no  room  for  fear.  It  is  true  that  I  had  my 
uncle's  assurance  that  he  had  himself  originally  taken 
this  point  of  view,  but  I  reflected  that  the  breakdown 
of  his  nervous  system  might  be  due  to  his  forty  years 
in  India  as  much  as  to  any  psychical  experiences 
which  had  befallen  him.  I  at  least  was  sound  in  nerve 
and  brain,  and  it  was  with  something  of  the  pleasurable 
thrill  of  anticipation  with  which  the  sportsman  takes 
his  position  beside  the  haunt  of  his  game  that  I  shut 
the  laboratory  door  behind  me,  and  partially  undressing, 
lay  down  upon  the  rug-covered  settee. 

It  was  not  an  ideal  atmosphere  for  a  bedroom. 
The  air  was  heavy  with  many  chemical  odours,  that  of 
methylated  spirit  predominating.  Nor  were  the  deco- 
rations of  my  chamber  very  sedative.    The  odious  line 


THE   BROWN  HAND  309 

of  glass  jars  with  their  relics  of  disease  and  suffering 
stretched  in  front  of  my  very  eyes.  There  was  no 
blind  to  the  window,  and  a  three-quarter  moon  streamed 
its  white  light  into  the  room,  tracing  a  silver  square 
with  filigree  lattices  upon  the  opposite  wall.  When  I 
had  extinguished  my  candle  this  one  bright  patch  in 
the  midst  of  the  general  gloom  had  certainly  an  eerie 
and  discomposing  aspect.  A  rigid  and  absolute  silence 
reigned  throughout  the  old  house,  so  that  the  low  swish 
of  the  branches  in  the  garden  came  softly  and  sooth- 
ingly to  my  ears.  It  may  have  been  the  hypnotic 
lullaby  of  this  gentle  susurrus,  or  it  may  have  been  the 
result  of  my  tiring  day,  but  after  many  dozings  and 
many  efforts  to  regain  my  clearness  of  perception,  I 
fell  at  last  into  a  deep  and  dreamless  sleep. 

I  was  awakened  by  some  sound  in  the  room,  and  I 
instantly  raised  myself  upon  my  elbow  on  the  couch. 
Some  hours  had  passed,  for  the  square  patch  upon  the 
wall  had  slid  downwards  and  sideways  until  it  lay 
obliquely  at  the  end  of  my  bed.  The  rest  of  the  room 
was  in  deep  shadow.  At  first  I  could  see  nothing, 
presently,  as  my  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  faint 
light,  I  was  aware,  with  a  thrill  which  all  my  scientific 
absorption  could  not  entirely  prevent,  that  something 
was  moving  slowly  along  the  line  of  the  wall.  A 
gentle,  shuffling  sound,  as  of  soft  slippers,  came  to  my 
ears,  and  I  dimly  discerned  a  human  figure  walking 
stealthily  from  the  direction  of  the  door.  As  it 
emerged  into  the  patch  of  moonlight  I  saw  very  clearly 
what  it  was  and  how  it  was  employed.  It  was  a  man, 
short  and  squat,  dressed  in  some  sort  of  dark-grey 
gown,  which  hung  straight  from  his  shoulders  to  his 


310  THE  BROWN  HAND 

feet.  The  moon  shone  upon  the  side  of  his  face,  and 
I  saw  that  it  was  chocolate-brown  in  colour,  with  a 
ball  of  black  hair  like  a  woman's  at  the  back  of  his 
head.  He  walked  slowly,  and  his  eyes  were  cast 
upwards  towards  the  line  of  bottles  which  contained 
those  gruesome  remnants  of  humanity.  He  seemed  to 
examine  each  jar  with  attention,  and  then  to  pass  on 
to  the  next.  When  he  had  come  to  the  end  of  the 
line,  immediately  opposite  my  bed,  he  stopped,  faced 
me,  threw  up  his  hands  with  a  gesture  of  despair,  and 
vanished  from  my  sight. 

I  have  said  that  he  threw  up  his  hands,  but  I 
should  have  said  his  arms,  for  as  he  assumed  that 
attitude  of  despair  I  observed  a  singular  peculiarity 
about  his  appearance.  He  had  only  one  handl  As 
the  sleeves  drooped  down  from  the  upflung  arms  I  saw 
the  left  plainly,  but  the  right  ended  in  a  knobby  and 
unsightly  stump.  In  every  other  way  his  appearance 
was  so  natural,  and  I  had  both  seen  and  heard  him 
so  clearly,  that  I  could  easily  have  believed  that  he 
was  an  Indian  servant  of  Sir  Dominick's  who  had 
come  into  my  room  in  search  of  something.  It 
was  only  his  sudden  disappearance  which  suggested 
anything  more  sinister  to  me.  As  it  was  I  sprang 
from  my  couch,  lit  a  candle,  and  examined  the 
whole  room  carefully.  There  were  no  signs  of  my 
visitor,  and  I  was  forced  to  conclude  that  there  had  really 
been  something  outside  the  normal  laws  of  Nature  in 
his  appearance.  I  lay  awake  for  the  remainder  of  the 
night,  but  nothing  else  occurred  to  disturb  me. 

I  am  an  early  riser,  but  my  uncle  was  an  even 
earlier  one,  for  I  found  him  pacing  up  and  down  the 


THE   BEOWN  HAND  311 

lawn  at  the  side  of  the  house.  He  ran  towards  me 
in  his  eagerness  when  he  saw  me  come  out  from  the 
door. 

"  Well,  well  I "  he  cried.    "  Did  you  see  him  t " 

"  An  Indian  with  one  hand  ?  " 

"  Precisely ." 

"Yes,  I  saw  him" — and  I  told  him  all  that 
occurred.  When  I  had  finished,  he  led  the  way  into 
his  study. 

"We  have  a  little  time  before  breakfast,"  said  he. 
"It  will  suffice  to  give  you  an  explanation  of  this 
extraordinary  affair — so  far  as  I  can  explain  that 
which  is  essentially  inexplicable.  In  the  first  place, 
when  I  tell  you  that  for  four  years  I  have  never  passed 
one  single  night,  either  in  Bombay,  aboard  ship,  or 
here  in  England  without  my  sleep  being  broken  by 
this  fellow,  you  will  understand  why  it  is  that  I  am 
a  wreck  of  my  former  self.  His  programme  is  always 
the  same.  He  appears  by  my  bedside,  shakes  me 
roughly  by  the  shoulder,  passes  from  my  room  into  the 
laboratory,  walks  slowly  along  the  line  of  my  bottles, 
and  then  vanishes.  For  more  than  a  thousand  times 
he  has  gone  through  the  same  routine." 

"  What  does  he  want  ?  " 

"  He  wants  his  hand." 

"His  hand?" 

"Yes,  it  came  about  in  this  way.  I  was  sum- 
moned to  Peshawur  for  a  consultation  some  ten  years 
ago,  and  while  there  I  was  asked  to  look  at  the  hand 
of  a  native  who  was  passing  through  with  an  Afghan 
caravan.  The  fellow  came  from  some  mountain  tribe 
living  away  at  the  back  of  beyond  somewhere  on  the 


312  THE  BROWN  HAND 

other  side  of  Kaffiristan.  He  talked  a  bastard  Pushtoo, 
and  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  understand  him.  He  was 
suffering  from  a  soft  sarcomatous  swelling  of  one  of 
the  metacarpal  joints,  and  I  made  him  realize  that  it 
was  only  by  losing  his  hand  that  he  could  hope  to  save 
his  life.  After  much  persuasion  he  consented  to  the 
operation,  and  he  asked  me,  when  it  was  over,  what 
fee  I  demanded.  The  poor  fellow  was  almost  a 
beggar,  so  that  the  idea  of  a  fee  was  absurd,  but  I 
answered  in  jest  that  my  fee  should  be  his  hand, 
and  that  I  proposed  to  add  it  to  my  pathological 
collection. 

"To  my  surprise  he  demurred  very  much  to  the 
suggestion,  and  he  explained  that  according  to  his 
religion  it  was  an  all-important  matter  that  the  body 
should  be  reunited  after  death,  and  so  make  a  perfect 
dwelling  for  the  spirit.  The  belief  is,  of  course,  an 
old  one,  and  the  mummies  of  the  Egyptians  arose  from 
an  analogous  superstition.  I  answered  him  that  his 
hand  was  already  off,  and  asked  him  how  he  intended 
to  preserve  it.  He  replied  that  he  would  pickle  it  in 
salt  and  carry  it  about  with  him.  I  suggested  that  it 
might  be  safer  in  my  keeping  than  in  his,  and  that  I 
had  better  means  than  salt  for  preserving  it.  On 
realizing  that  I  really  intended  to  carefully  keep  it, 
his  opposition  vanished  instantly.  'But  remember, 
sahib/  said  he,  *  I  shall  want  it  back  when  I  am  dead.' 
I  laughed  at  the  remark,  and  so  the  matter  ended. 
I  returned  to  my  practice,  and  he  no  doubt  in  the 
course  of  time  was  able  to  continue  his  journey  to 
Afghanistan. 

"  Well,  as  I  told  you  last  night,  I  had  a  bad  fire 


THE  BROWN  HAND  313 

in  my  house  at  Bombay.  Half  of  it  was  burned  down, 
and,  among  other  things,  my  pathological  collection 
was  largely  destroyed.  What  you  see  are  the  poor 
remains  of  it.  The  hand  of  the  hillman  went  with 
the  rest,  but  I  gave  the  matter  no  particular  thought 
at  the  time.     That  was  six  years  ago. 

"Four  years  ago — two  years  after  the  fire — I  was 
awakened  one  night  by  a  furious  tugging  at  my  sleeve. 
I  sat  up  under  the  impression  that  my  favourite  mastiff 
was  trying  to  arouse  me.  Instead  of  this,  I  saw  my 
Indian  patient  of  long  ago,  dressed  in  the  long  grey 
gown  which  was  the  badge  of  his  people.  He  was 
holding  up  his  stump  and  looking  reproachfully  at 
me.  He  then  went  over  to  my  bottles,  which  at  that 
time  I  kept  in  my  room,  and  he  examined  them  care- 
fully, after  which  he  gave  a  gesture  of  anger  and 
vanished.  I  realized  that  he  had  just  died,  and  that 
he  had  come  to  claim  my  promise  that  I  should  keep 
his  limb  in  safety  for  him. 

"  Well,  there  you  have  it  all,  Dr.  Hardacre.  Every 
night  at  the  same  hour  for  four  years  this  performance 
has  been  repeated.  It  is  a  simple  thing  in  itself,  but 
it  has  worn  me  out  like  water  dropping  on  a  stone. 
It  has  brought  a  vile  insomnia  with  it,  for  I  cannot 
sleep  now  for  the  expectation  of  his  coming.  It  has 
poisoned  my  old  age  and  that  of  my  wife,  who  has 
been  the  sharer  in  this  great  trouble.  But  there  is 
the  breakfast  gong,  and  she  will  be  waiting  impatiently 
to  know  how  it  fared  with  you  last  night.  We  are 
both  much  indebted  to  you  for  your  gallantry,  for  it 
takes  something  from  the  weight  of  our  misfortune 
when  we  share  it,  even  for  a  single  night,  with  a  friend, 


314  THE  BROWN   HAND 

and  it  reassures  us  as  to  our  sanity,  which  we  are  some- 
times driven  to  question." 

This  was  the  curious  narrative  which  Sir  Dominick 
confided  to  me — a  story  which  to  many  would  have 
appeared  to  be  a  grotesque  impossibility,  but  which, 
after  my  experience  of  the  night  before,  and  my  previous 
knowledge  of  such  things,  I  was  prepared  to  accept  as 
an  absolute  fact.  I  thought  deeply  over  the  matter, 
and  brought  the  whole  range  of  my  reading  and  ex- 
perience to  bear  upon  it.  After  breakfast,  I  surprised 
my  host  and  hostess  by  announcing  that  I  was  return- 
ing to  London  by  the  next  train. 

"My  dear  doctor,"  cried  Sir  Dominick  in  great 
distress,  "you  make  me  feel  that  I  have  been  guilty 
of  a  gross  breach  of  hospitality  in  intruding  this  un- 
fortunate matter  upon  you.  I  should  have  borne  my 
own  burden." 

"  It  is,  indeed,  that  matter  which  is  taking  me  to 
London,"  I  answered ;  "  but  you  are  mistaken,  I  assure 
you,  if  you  think  that  my  experience  of  last  night  was 
an  unpleasant  one  to  me.  On  the  contrary,  I  am  about 
to  ask  your  permission  to  return  in  the  evening  and 
spend  one  more  night  in  your  laboratory.  I  am  very 
eager  to  see  this  visitor  once  again." 

My  uncle  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  know  what 
I  was  about  to  do,  but  my  fears  of  raising  false  hopes 
prevented  me  from  telling  him.  I  was  back  in  my 
own  consulting-room  a  little  after  luncheon,  and  was 
confirming  my  memory  of  a  passage  in  a  recent  book 
upon  occultism  which  had  arrested  my  attention  when 
I  read  it. 

"In  the  case  of   earth-bound  spirits,"    said  my 


THE   BROWN   HAND  315 

authority,  "some  one  dominant  idea  obsessing  them 
at  the  hour  of  death  is  sufficient  to  hold  them  to  this 
material  world.  They  are  the  amphibia  of  this  life 
and  of  the  next,  capable  of  passing  from  one  to  the 
other  as  the  turtle  passes  from  land  to  water.  The 
causes  which  may  bind  a  soul  so  strongly  to  a  life 
which  its  body  has  abandoned  are  any  violent  emotion. 
Avarice,  revenge,  anxiety,  love,  and  pity  have  all  been 
known  to  have  this  effect.  As  a  rule  it  springs  from 
some  unfulfilled  wish,  and  when  the  wish  has  been 
fulfilled  the  material  bond  relaxes.  There  are  many 
cases  upon  record  which  show  the  singular  persistence 
of  these  visitors,  and  also  their  disappearance  when 
their  wishes  have  been  fulfilled,  or  in  some  cases  when 
a  reasonable  compromise  has  been  effected." 

"  A  reasonable  compromise  effected  " — those  were  the 
words  which  I  had  brooded  over  all  the  morning,  and 
which  I  now  verified  in  the  original.  No  actual  atone- 
ment could  be  made  here — but  a  reasonable  compromise ! 
I  made  my  way  as  fast  as  a  train  could  take  me  to  the 
Shadwell  Seamen's  Hospital,  where  my  old  friend  Jack 
Hewett  was  house-surgeon.  Without  explaining  the 
situation  I  made  him  understand  exactly  what  it  was 
that  I  wanted. 

"A  brown  man's  hand!"  said  he,  in  amazement. 
"  What  in  the  world  do  you  want  that  for  ? " 

"Never  mind.  I'll  tell  you  some  day.  I  know 
that  your  wards  are  full  of  Indians." 

11 1  should  think  so.   But  a  hand "   He  thought 

a  little  and  then  struck  a  bell. 

"Travers,"  said  he  to  a  student-dresser,  "what 
became  of  the  hands  of  the  Lascar  which  we  took  off 


316  THE  BROWN  HAND 

yesterday?  I  mean  the  fellow  from  the  East  India 
Dock  who  got  caught  in  the  steam  winch." 

"  They  are  in  the  post-mortem  room,  sir." 

"  Just  pack  one  of  them  in  antiseptics  and  give  it 
to  Dr.  Hardacre." 

And  so  I  found  myself  back  at  Eodenhurst  before 
dinner  with  this  curious  outcome  of  my  day  in  town. 
I  still  said  nothing  to  Sir  Dominick,  but  I  slept  that 
night  in  the  laboratory,  and  I  placed  the  Lascar's 
hand  in  one  of  the  glass  jars  at  the  end  of  my 
couch. 

So  interested  was  I  in  the  result  of  my  experiment 
that  sleep  was  out  of  the  question.  I  sat  with  a 
shaded  lamp  beside  me  and  waited  patiently  for  my 
visitor.  This  time  I  saw  him  clearly  from  the  first. 
He  appeared  beside  the  door,  nebulous  for  an  instant, 
and  then  hardening  into  as  distinct  an  outline  as  any 
living  man.  The  slippers  beneath  his  grey  gown  were 
red  and  heelless,  which  accounted  for  the  low,  shuffling 
sound  which  he  made  as  he  walked.  As  on  the  previous 
night  he  passed  slowly  along  the  line  of  bottles  until 
he  paused  before  that  which  contained  the  hand.  He 
reached  up  to  it,  his  whole  figure  quivering  with  ex- 
pectation, took  it  down,  examined  it  eagerly,  and  then, 
with  a  face  which  was  convulsed  with  fury  and  dis- 
appointment, he  hurled  it  down  on  the  floor.  There 
was  a  crash  which  resounded  through  the  house,  and 
when  I  looked  up  the  mutilated  Indian  had  disappeared. 
A  moment  later  my  door  flew  open  and  Sir  Dominick 
rushed  in. 

"  You  are  not  hurt  ? "  he  cried. 

"  No— but  deeply  disappointed/' 


THE  BROWN  HAND  317 

He  looked  in  astonishment  at  the  splinters  of  glass, 
and  the  brown  hand  lying  upon  the  floor. 

"  Good  God !  "  he  cried.     "  What  is  this  ? " 

I  told  him  my  idea  and  its  wretched  sequel.  He 
listened  intently,  but  shook  his  head. 

"  It  was  weU  thought  of,"  said  he,  "  but  I  fear  that 
there  is  no  such  easy  end  to  my  sufferings.  But  one 
thing  I  now  insist  upon.  It  is  that  you  shall  never 
again  upon  any  pretext  occupy  this  room.  My  fears 
that  something  might  have  happened  to  you — when  I 
heard  that  crash — have  been  the  most  acute  of  all  the 
agonies  which  I  have  undergone.  I  will  not  expose 
myself  to  a  repetition  of  it." 

He  allowed  me,  however,  to  spend  the  remainder  of 
that  night  where  I  was,  and  I  lay  there  worrying  over 
the  problem  and  lamenting  my  own  failure.  With 
the  first  light  of  morning  there  was  the  Lascar's 
hand  still  lying  upon  the  floor  to  remind  me  of  my 
fiasco.  I  lay  looking  at  it — and  as  I  lay  suddenly 
an  idea  flew  like  a  bullet  through  my  head  and 
brought  me  quivering  with  excitement  out  of  my 
couch.  I  raised  the  grim  relic  from  where  it  had 
fallen.  Yes,  it  was  indeed  so.  The  hand  was  the 
left  hand  of  the  Lascar. 

By  the  first  train  I  was  on  my  way  to  town, 
and  hurried  at  once  to  the  Seamen's  Hospital.  I 
remembered  that  both  hands  of  the  Lascar  had  been 
amputated,  but  I  was  terrified  lest  the  precious  organ 
which  I  was  in  search  of  might  have  been  already  con- 
sumed in  the  crematory.  My  suspense  was  soon  ended. 
It  had  still  been  preserved  in  the  post-mortem  room. 
And  so  I  returned  to  Eodenhurst  in  the  evening  with 


318  THE  BROWN  HAND 

ray  mission  accomplished  and  the  material  for  a  fresh 
experiment. 

But  Sir  Dominick  Holden  would  not  hear  of  my 
occupying  the  laboratory  again.  To  all  my  entreaties 
he  turned  a  deaf  ear.  It  offended  his  sense  of  hos- 
pitality, and  he  could  no  longer  permit  it.  I  left  the 
hand,  therefore,  as  I  had  done  its  fellow  the  night 
before,  and  I  occupied  a  comfortable  bedroom  in  another 
portion  of  the  house,  some  distance  from  the  scene  of  my 
adventures. 

But  in  spite  of  that  my  sleep  was  not  destined  to 
be  uninterrupted.  In  the  dead  of  night  my  host  burst 
into  my  room,  a  lamp  in  his  hand.  His  huge  gaunt 
figure  was  enveloped  in  a  loose  dressing-gown,  and  his 
whole  appearance  might  certainly  have  seemed  more 
formidable  to  a  weak-nerved  man  than  that  of  the 
Indian  of  the  night  before.  But  it  was  not  his 
entrance  so  much  as  his  expression  which  amazed  me. 
He  had  turned  suddenly  younger  by  twenty  years  at 
the  least.  His  eyes  were  shining,  his  features  radiant, 
and  he  waved  one  hand  in  triumph  over  his  head.  I 
sat  up  astounded,  staring  sleepily  at  this  extraordinary 
visitor.  But  his  words  soon  drove  the  sleep  from  my 
eyes. 

"  We  have  done  it !  We  have  succeeded  !  "  he 
shouted.  "  My  dear  Hardacre,  how  can  I  ever  in  this 
world  repay  you  ?  " 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  it  is  all  right  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do.  I  was  sure  that  you  would  not  mind 
being  awakened  to  hear  such  blessed  news." 

"Mind!  I  should  think  not  indeed.  But  is  it 
really  certain  ? " 


THE  BROWN  HAND  319 

"  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  upon  the  point.  I  owe 
you  such  a  debt,  my  dear  nephew,  as  I  have  never  owed 
a  man  before,  and  never  expected  to.  What  can  I 
possibly  do  for  you  that  is  commensurate  ?  Providence 
must  have  sent  you  to  my  rescue.  You  have  saved 
both  my  reason  and  my  life,  for  another  six  months 
of  this  must  have  seen  me  either  in  a  cell  or  a  coffin. 
And  my  wife — it  was  wearing  her  out  before  my  eyes. 
Never  could  I  have  believed  that  any  human  being 
could  have  lifted  this  burden  off  me."  He  seized  my 
hand  and  wrung  it  in  his  bony  grip. 

"It  was  only  an  experiment — a  forlorn  hope — but 
I  am  delighted  from  my  heart  that  it  has  succeeded. 
But  how  do  you  know  that  it  is  all  right  ?  Have  you 
seen  something  ? " 

He  seated  himself  at  the  foot  of  my  bed. 

"  I  have  seen  enough/'  said  he.  "  It  satisfies  me 
that  I  shall  be  troubled  no  more.  What  has  passed  is 
easily  told.  You  know  that  at  a  certain  hour  this 
creature  always  comes  to  me.  To-night  he  arrived  at 
the  usual  time,  and  aroused  me  with  even  more  violence 
than  is  his  custom.  I  can  only  surmise  that  his  dis- 
appointment of  last  night  increased  the  bitterness  of 
his  anger  against  me.  He  looked  angrily  at  me,  and 
then  went  on  his  usual  round.  But  in  a  few  minutes 
I  saw  him,  for  the  first  time  since  this  persecution 
began,  return  to  my  chamber.  He  was  smiling.  I 
saw  the  gleam  of  his  white  teeth  through  the  dim  light. 
He  stood  facing  me  at  the  end  of  my  bed,  and  three 
times  he  made  the  low  Eastern  salaam  which  is  their 
solemn  leave-taking.  And  the  third  time  that  he 
bowed  he  raised  his  arms  over  his  head,  and  I  saw  his 


320  THE  BROWN  HAND 

two  hands  outstretched  in  the  air.     So  he  vanished, 
and,  as  I  believe,  for  ever." 

So  that  is  the  curious  experience  which  won  me 
the  affection  and  the  gratitude  of  my  celebrated  uncle, 
the  famous  Indian  surgeon.  His  anticipations  were 
realized,  and  never  again  was  he  disturbed  by  the 
visits  of  the  restless  hillman  in  search  of  his  lost 
member.  Sir  Dominick  and  Lady  Hoi  den  spent  a 
very  happy  old  age,  unclouded,  so  far  as  I  know,  by 
any  trouble,  and  they  finally  died  during  the  great 
influenza  epidemic  within  a  few  weeks  of  each  other. 
In  his  lifetime  he  always  turned  to  me  for  advice  in 
everything  which  concerned  that  English  life  of  which 
he  knew  so  little  ;  and  I  aided  him  also  in  the  purchase 
and  development  of  his  estates.  It  was  no  great  sur- 
prise to  me,  therefore,  that  I  found  myself  eventually 
promoted  over  the  heads  of  five  exasperated  cousins, 
and  changed  in  a  single  day  from  a  hard-working 
country  doctor  into  the  head  of  an  important  Wilt- 
shire family.  I  at  least  have  reason  to  bless  the 
memory  of  the  man  with  the  brown  hand,  and  the  day 
when  1  was  fortunate  enough  to  relieve  Eodenhurst  of 
his  unwelcome  presence. 


THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  bring  the  Gamecock  up  to 
the  island,  for  the  river  had  swept  down  so  much  silt 
that  the  banks  extended  for  many  miles  out  into  the 
Atlantic.  The  coast  was  hardly  to  be  seen  when  the 
first  white  curl  of  the  breakers  warned  us  of  our  danger, 
and  from  there  onwards  we  made  our  way  very  care- 
fully under  mainsail  and  jib,  keeping  the  broken  water 
well  to  the  left,  as  is  indicated  on  the  chart.  More 
than  once  her  bottom  touched  the  sand  (we  were  draw- 
ing something  under  six  feet  at  the  time),  but  we  had 
always  way  enough  and  luck  enough  to  carry  us  through. 
Finally,  the  water  shoaled  very  rapidly,  but  they  had 
sent  a  canoe  from  the  factory,  and  the  Krooboy  pilot 
brought  us  within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  island. 
Here  we  dropped  our  anchor,  for  the  gestures  of  the 
negro  indicated  that  we  could  not  hope  to  get  any  farther. 
The  blue  of  the  sea  had  changed  to  the  brown  of  the 
river,  and,  even  under  the  shelter  of  the  island,  the 
current  was  singing  and  swirling  round  our  bows.  The 
stream  appeared  to  be  in  spate,  for  it  was  over  the  roots 
of  the  palm  trees,  and  everywhere  upon  its  muddy, 
greasy  surface  we  could  see  logs  of  wood  and  debris 
of  all  sorts  which  had  been  carried  down  by  the 
flood. 

321  Y 


322     THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE 

When  I  had  assured  myself  that  we  swung  securely 
at  our  moorings,  I  thought  it  best  to  begin  watering  at 
once,  for  the  place  looked  as  if  it  reeked  with  fever. 
The  heavy  river,  the  muddy,  shining  banks,  the  bright 
poisonous  green  of  the  jungle,  the  moist  steam  in  the 
air,  they  were  all  so  many  danger  signals  to  one  who 
could  read  them.  I  sent  the  long-boat  off,  therefore, 
with  two  large  hogsheads,  which  should  be  sufficient  to 
last  us  until  we  made  St.  Paul  de  Loanda.  For  my 
own  part  I  took  the  dinghy  and  rowed  for  the  island, 
for  I  could  see  the  Union  Jack  fluttering  above  the 
palms  to  mark  the  position  of  Armitage  and  Wilson's 
trading  station. 

When  I  had  cleared  the  grove,  I  could  see  the  place, 
a  long,  low,  whitewashed  building,  with  a  deep  verandah 
in  front,  and  an  immense  pile  of  palm  oil  barrels  heaped 
upon  either  flank  of  it.  A  row  of  surf  boats  and  canoes 
lay  along  the  beach,  and  a  single  small  jetty  projected 
into  the  river.  Two  men  in  white  suits  with  red  cum- 
merbunds round  their  waists  were  waiting  upon  the 
end  of  it  to  receive  me.  One  was  a  large  portly  fellow 
with  a  greyish  beard.  The  other  was  slender  and  tall, 
with  a  pale  pinched  face,  which  was  half  concealed  by 
a  great  mushroom-shaped  hat. 

"  Very  glad  to  see  you,"  said  the  latter,  cordially. 
"I  am  Walker,  the  agent  of  Armitage  and  Wilson. 
Let  me  introduce  Dr.  Severall  of  the  same  com- 
pany. It  is  not  often  we  see  a  private  yacht  in  these 
parts." 

"  She's  the  Gamecock?  I  explained.  "  I'm  owner 
and  captain — Meldrum  is  the  name." 

"  Exploring  ?  "  he  asked. 


THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE  323 

"  I'm  a  lepidopterist — a  butterfly-catcher.  I've  been 
doing  the  west  coast  from  Senegal  downwards." 

"Good  sport?"  asked  the  Doctor,  turning  a  slow 
yellow-shot  eye  upon  me. 

"  I  have  forty  cases  full.  We  came  in  here  to  water, 
and  also  to  see  what  you  have  in  my  line." 

These  introductions  and  explanations  had  filled  up 
the  time  whilst  my  two  Krooboys  were  making  the 
dinghy  fast.  Then  I  walked  down  the  jetty  with  one 
of  my  new  acquaintances  upon  either  side,  each  plying 
me  with  questions,  for  they  had  seen  no  white  man  for 
months. 

"  What  do  we  do  ? "  said  the  Doctor,  when  I  had 
begun  asking  questions  in  my  turn.  "  Our  business 
keeps  us  pretty  busy,  and  in  our  leisure  time  we  talk 
politics." 

"  Yes,  by  the  special  mercy  of  Providence  Severall 
is  a  rank  Eadical  and  I  am  a  good  stiff  Unionist, 
and  we  talk  Home  Kule  for  two  solid  hours  every 
evening." 

"And  drink  quinine  cocktails,"  said  the  Doctor. 
"  Were  both  pretty  well  salted  now,  but  our  normal 
temperature  was  about  103  last  year.  I  shouldn't,  as 
an  impartial  adviser,  recommend  you  to  stay  here  very 
long  unless  you  are  collecting  bacilli  as  well  as  butter- 
flies. The  mouth  of  the  Ogowai  Eiver  will  never  develop 
into  a  health  resort." 

There  is  nothing  finer  than  the  way  in  which  these 
outlying  pickets  of  civilization  distil  a  grim  humour  out 
of  their  desolate  situation,  and  turn  not  only  a  bold, 
but  a  laughing  face  upon  the  chances  which  their  lives 
may  bring.     Everywhere  from  Sierra  Leone  downwards 


324     THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE 

I  had  found  the  same  reeking  swamps,  the  same  isolated 
fever-racked  communities  and  the  same  bad  jokes. 
There  is  something  approaching  to  the  divine  in  that 
power  of  man  to  rise  above  his  conditions  and  to  use 
his  mind  for  the  purpose  of  mocking  at  the  miseries  of 
his  body. 

"  Dinner  will  be  ready  in  about  half  an  hour,  Cap- 
tain Meldrum,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  Walker  has  gone  in 
to  see  about  it ;  he's  the  housekeeper  this  week.  Mean- 
while, if  you  like,  we'll  stroll  round  and  I'll  show  you 
the  sights  of  the  island." 

The  sun  had  already  sunk  beneath  the  line  of  palm 
trees,  and  the  great  arch  of  the  heaven  above  our  head 
was  like  the  inside  of  a  huge  shell,  shimmering  with 
dainty  pinks  and  delicate  irridescence.  No  one  who 
has  not  lived  in  a  land  where  the  weight  and  heat  of  a 
napkin  become  intolerable  upon  the  knees  can  imagine 
the  blessed  relief  which  the  coolness  of  evening  brings 
along  with  it.  In  this  sweeter  and  purer  air  the 
Doctor  and  I  walked  round  the  little  island,  he 
pointing  out  the  stores,  and  explaining  the  routine  of 
his  work. 

"  There's  a  certain  romance  about  the  place,"  said 
he,  in  answer  to  some  remark  of  mine  about  the  dul- 
ness  of  their  lives.  "  We  are  Hving  here  just  upon  the 
edge  of  the  great  unknown.  Up  there,"  he  continued, 
pointing  to  the  north-east,  "Du  Chaillu  penetrated, 
and  found  the  home  of  the  gorilla.  That  is  the  Gaboon 
country — the  land  of  the  great  apes.  In  this  direction," 
pointing  to  the  south-east,  "  no  one  has  been  very  far. 
The  land  which  is  drained  by  this  river  is  practically 
unknown  to  Europeans.     Every  log  which  is  carried 


THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE  325 

past  us  by  the  current  has  come  from  an  undiscovered 
country.  I've  often  wished  that  I  was  a  better  botanist 
when  I  have  seen  the  singular  orchids  and  curious- 
looking  plants  which  have  been  cast  up  on  the  eastern 
end  of  the  island." 

The  place  which  the  Doctor  indicated  was  a  sloping 
brown  beach,  freely  littered  with  the  flotsam  of  the 
stream.  At  each  end  was  a  curved  point,  like  a  little 
natural  breakwater,  so  that  a  small  shallow  bay  was 
left  between.  This  was  full  of  floating  vegetation,  with 
a  single  huge  splintered  tree  lying  stranded  in  the 
middle  of  it,  the  current  rippling  against  its  high  black 
side. 

"  These  are  all  from  up  country,"  said  the  Doctor. 
"They  get  caught  in  our  little  bay,  and  then  when 
some  extra  freshet  comes  they  are  washed  out  again 
and  carried  out  to  sea." 

"  What  is  the  tree  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  some  kind  of  teak  I  should  imagine,  but 
pretty  rotten  by  the  look  of  it.  We  get  all  sorts  of  big 
hardwood  trees  floating  past  here,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  palms.     Just  come  in  here,  will  you  ? " 

He  led  the  way  into  a  long  building  with  an 
immense  quantity  of  barrel  staves  and  iron  hoops 
littered  about  in  it. 

"  This  is  our  cooperage,"  said  he.  "  We  have  the 
staves  sent  out  in  bundles,  and  we  put  them  together 
ourselves.  Now,  you  don't  see  anything  particularly 
sinister  about  this  building,  do  you  ? " 

I  looked  round  at  the  high  corrugated  iron  roof,  the 
white  wooden  walls,  and  the  earthen  floor.  In  one 
corner  lay  a  mattress  and  a  blanket. 


326  THE  FIEND  OP  THE  COOPERAGE 

"  I  see  nothing  very  alarming,"  said  I. 

"And  yet  there's  something  out  of  the  common, 
too,"  he  remarked.  "Yon  see  that  hed?  Well,  I 
intend  to  sleep  there  to-night.  I  don't  want  to  buck, 
but  I  think  it's  a  bit  of  a  test  for  nerve." 

"Why?" 

"  Oh,  there  have  been  some  funny  goings  on.  You 
were  talking  about  the  monotony  of  our  lives,  but  I 
assure  you  that  they  are  sometimes  quite  as  exciting  as 
we  wish  them  to  be.  You'd  better  come  back  to  the 
house  now,  for  after  sundown  we  begin  to  get  the 
fever-fog  up  from  the  marshes.  There,  you  can  see  it 
coming  across  the  river." 

I  looked  and  saw  long  tentacles  of  white  vapour 
writhing  out  from  among  the  thick  green  underwood 
and  crawling  at  us  over  the  broad  swirling  surface  of 
the  brown  river.  At  the  same  time  the  air  turned 
suddenly  dank  and  cold. 

"There's  the  dinner  gong,"  said  the  Doctor.  "If 
this  matter  interests  you  I'll  tell  you  about  it  after- 
wards." 

It  did  interest  me  very  much,  for  there  was  some- 
thing earnest  and  subdued  in  his  manner  as  he  stood 
in  the  empty  cooperage,  which  appealed  very  forcibly 
to  my  imagination.  He  was  a  big,  bluff,  hearty  man, 
this  Doctor,  and  yet  I  had  detected  a  curious  expres- 
sion in  his  eyes  as  he  glanced  about  him — an  ex- 
pression which  I  would  not  describe  as  one  of  fear, 
but  rather  that  of  a  man  who  is  alert  and  on  his 
guard. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  I,  as  we  returned  to  the  house, 
"  you  have  shown  me  the  huts  of  a  good  many  of  your 


THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE     327 

native  assistants,  but  I  have  not  seen  any  of  the  natives 
themselves." 

"  They  sleep  in  the  hulk  over  yonder,"  the  Doctor 
answered,  pointing  over  to  one  of  the  banks. 

"  Indeed.  I  should  not  have  thought  in  that  case 
that  they  would  need  the  huts." 

"  Oh,  they  used  the  huts  until  quite  recently. 
We've  put  them  on  the  hulk  until  they  recover  their 
confidence  a  little.  They  were  all  half  mad  with 
fright,  so  we  let  them  go,  and  nobody  sleeps  on  the 
island  except  Walker  and  myself." 

■  What  frightened  them  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Well,  that  brings  us  back  to  the  same  story. 
I  suppose  Walker  has  no  objection  to  your  hearing 
all  about  it.  I  don't  know  why  we  should  make  any 
secret  about  it,  though  it  is  certainly  a  pretty  bad 
business." 

He  made  no  further  allusion  to  it  during  the 
excellent  dinner  which  had  been  prepared  in  my 
honour.  It  appeared  that  no  sooner  had  the  little 
white  topsail  of  the  Gamecock  shown  round  Cape 
Lopez  than  these  kind  fellows  had  begun  to  prepare 
their  famous  pepper-pot— which  is  the  pungent  stew 
peculiar  to  the  West  Coast — and  to  boil  their  yams 
and  sweet  potatoes.  We  sat  down  to  as  good  a 
native  dinner  as  one  could  wish,  served  by  a  smart 
Sierra  Leone  waiting  boy.  I  was  just  remarking  to 
myself  that  he  at  least  had  not  shared  in  the  general 
flight  when,  having  laid  the  dessert  and  wine  upon  the 
table,  he  raised  his  hand  to  his  turban. 

"  Anyting  else  I  do,  Massa  Walker  ? "  he  asked. 

"No,  I  think  that  is  all  right,  Moussa,"  my  host 


328     THE  FIEND  OP  THE  COOPERAGE 

answered.  "  I  am  not  feeling  very  well  to-night, 
though,  and  I  should  much  prefer  if  you  would  stay 
on  the  island." 

I  saw  a  struggle  between  his  fears  and  his  duty 
upon  the  swarthy  face  of  the  African.  His  skin  had 
turned  of  that  livid  purplish  tint  which  stands  for 
pallor  in  a  negro,  and  his  eyes  looked  furtively  about 
him. 

"No,  no,  Massa  Walker,"  he  cried,  at  last,  "you 
better  come  to  the  hulk  with  me,  sah.  Look  after  you 
much  better  in  the  hulk,  sah !  " 

"That  won't  do,  Moussa.  White  men  don't  run 
away  from  the  posts  where  they  are  placed." 

Again  I  saw  the  passionate  struggle  in  the  negro's 
face,  and  again  his  fears  prevailed. 

"  No  use,  Massa  Walker,  sah ! "  he  cried.  "  S'elp 
me,  I  can't  do  it.  If  it  was  yesterday  or  if  it  was 
to-morrow,  but  this  is  the  third  night,  sah,  an'  it's 
more  than  I  can  face." 

Walker  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Off  with  you  then ! "  said  he.  "  When  the  mail- 
boat  comes  you  can  get  back  to  Sierra  Leone,  for  I'll 
have  no  servant  who  deserts  me  when  I  need  him 
most.  I  suppose  this  is  all  mystery  to  you,  or  has 
the  Doctor  told  you,  Captain  Meldrum  ?  " 

"I  showed  Captain  Meldrum  the  cooperage,  but 
I  did  not  tell  him  anything,"  said  Dr.  Severall. 
"You're  looking  bad,  Walker,"  he  added,  glancing  at 
his  companion.  "You  have  a  strong  touch  coming 
on  you." 

"Yes,  I've  had  the  shivers  all  day,  and  now  my 
head  is  like  a  cannon-ball.      I   took  ten  grains  of 


THE  FIEND  OP  THE  COOPERAGE  329 

quinine,  and  my  ears  are  singing  like  a  kettle.  But 
I  want  to  sleep  with  you  in  the  cooperage  to-night." 

"No,  no,  my  dear  chap.  I  won't  hear  of  such 
a  thing.  You  must  get  to  bed  at  once,  and  I  am 
sure  Meldrum  will  excuse  you.  I  shall  sleep  in  the 
cooperage,  and  I  promise  you  that  I'll  be  round  with 
your  medicine  before  breakfast." 

It  was  evident  that  Walker  had  been  struck  by 
one  of  those  sudden  and  violent  attacks  of  remittent 
fever  which  are  the  curse  of  the  West  Coast.  His 
sallow  cheeks  were  flushed  and  his  eyes  shining 
with  fever,  and  suddenly  as  he  sat  there  he  began 
to  croon  out  a  song  in  the  high-pitched  voice  of 
delirium. 

"  Come,  come,  we  must  get  you  to  bed,  old  chap," 
said  the  Doctor,  and  with  my  aid  he  led  his  friend 
into  his  bedroom.  There  we  undressed  him,  and 
presently,  after  taking  a  strong  sedative,  he  settled 
down  into  a  deep  slumber. 

"  He's  right  for  the  night,"  said  the  Doctor,  as  we 
sat  down  and  filled  our  glasses  once  more.  "Some- 
times it  is  my  turn  and  sometimes  his,  but,  fortunately, 
we  have  never  been  down  together.  I  should  have 
been  sorry  to  be  out  of  it  to-night,  for  I  have  a  little 
mystery  to  unravel.  I  told  you  that  I  intended  to 
sleep  in  the  cooperage." 

"  Yes,  you  said  so." 

"  When  I  said  sleep  I  meant  watch;  for  there  will 
be  no  sleep  for  me.  We've  had  such  a  scare  here 
that  no  native  will  stay  after  sundown,  and  I  mean 
to  find  out  to-night  what  the  cause  of  it  all  may  be. 
It  has  always  been  the  custom  for  a  native  watchman 


330     THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE 

to  sleep  in  the  cooperage,  to  prevent  the  barrel  hoops 
being  stolen.  Well,  six  days  ago  the  fellow  who 
slept  there  disappeared,  and  we  have  never  seen  a 
trace  of  him  since.  It  was  certainly  singular,  for  no 
canoe  had  been  taken,  and  these  waters  are  too  full 
of  crocodiles  for  any  man  to  swim  to  shore.  What 
became  of  the  fellow,  or  how  he  could  have  left  the 
island  is  a  complete  mystery.  Walker  and  I  were 
merely  surprised,  but  the  blacks  were  badly  scared, 
and  queer  Voodoo  tales  began  to  get  about  amongst 
them.  But  the  real  stampede  broke  out  three  nights 
ago,  when  the  new  watchman  in  the  cooperage  also 
disappeared." 

"  What  became  of  him  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Well,  we  not  only  don't  know,  but  we  can't  even 
give  a  guess  which  would  fit  the  facts.  The  niggers 
swear  there  is  a  fiend  in  the  cooperage  who  claims  a 
man  every  third  night.  They  wouldn't  stay  in  the 
island — nothing  could  persuade  them.  Even  Moussa, 
who  is  a  faithful  boy  enough,  would,  as  you  have 
seen,  leave  his  master  in  a  fever  rather  than  remain 
for  the  night.  If  we  are  to  continue  to  run  this  place 
we  must  reassure  our  niggers,  and  I  don't  know  any 
better  way  of  doing  it  than  by  putting  in  a  night  there 
myself.  This  is  the  third  night,  you  see,  so  I  suppose 
the  thing  is  due,  whatever  it  may  be." 

"  Have  you  no  clue  ? "  I  asked.  "  Was  there  no 
mark  of  violence,  no  blood-stain,  no  footprints,  nothing 
to  give  a  hint  as  to  what  kind  of  danger  you  may  have 
to  meet  ? " 

"  Absolutely  nothing.  The  man  was  gone  and  that 
was  all.     Last  time  it  was  old  Ali,  who  has  been 


THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE     331 

wharf-tender  here  since  the  place  was  started.  He 
was  always  as  steady  as  a  rock,  and  nothing  but  foul 
play  would  take  him  from  his  work." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "I  really  don't  think  that  this  is 
a  one-man  job.  Your  friend  is  full  of  laudanum,  and 
come  what  might  he  can  be  of  no  assistance  to  you. 
You  must  let  me  stay  and  put  in  a  night  with  you  at 
the  cooperage." 

"Well,  now,  that's  very  good  of  you,  Meldrum," 
said  he  heartily,  shaking  my  hand  across  the  table. 
"It's  not  a  thing  that  I  should  have  ventured  to 
propose,  for  it  is  asking  a  good  deal  of  a  casual  visitor, 
but  if  you  really  mean  it " 

"Certainly  I  mean  it.  If  you  will  excuse  me  a 
moment,  I  will  hail  the  Gamecock  and  let  them  know 
that  they  need  not  expect  me." 

As  we  came  back  from  the  other  end  of  the  little 
jetty  we  were  both  struck  by  the  appearance  of  the 
night.  A  huge  blue-black  pile  of  clouds  had  built 
itself  up  upon  the  landward  side,  and  the  wind  came 
from  it  in  little  hot  pants,  which  beat  upon  our  faces 
like  the  draught  from  a  blast  furnace.  Under  the 
jetty  the  river  was  swirling  and  hissing,  tossing  little 
white  spurts  of  spray  over  the  planking. 

"  Confound  it !  "  said  Doctor  Severall.  "  We  are 
likely  to  have  a  flood  on  the  top  of  all  our  troubles. 
That  rise  in  the  river  means  heavy  rain  up-country, 
and  when  it  once  begins  you  never  know  how  far  it 
will  go.  We've  had  the  island  nearly  covered  before 
now.  Well,  we'll  just  go  and  see  that  Walker  is  com- 
fortable, and  then  if  you  like  well  settle  down  in  our 
quarters." 


332     THE  FIEND  OP  THE  COOPEKAGE 

The  sick  man  was  sunk  in  a  profound  slumber,  and 
we  left  him  with  some  crushed  limes  in  a  glass  beside 
him  in  case  he  should  awake  with  the  thirst  of  fever 
upon  him.  Then  we  made  our  way  through  the 
unnatural  gloom  thrown  by  that  menacing  cloud.  The 
river  had  risen  so  high  that  the  little  bay  which  I 
have  described  at  the  end  of  the  island  had  become 
almost  obliterated  through  the  submerging  of  its  flank- 
ing peninsula.  The  great  raft  of  driftwood,  with  the 
huge  black  tree  in  the  middle,  was  swaying  up  and 
down  in  the  swollen  current. 

"  That's  one  good  thing  a  flood  will  do  for  us,"  said 
the  Doctor.  "It  carries  away  all  the  vegetable  stuff 
which  is  brought  down  on  to  the  east  end  of  the  island. 
It  came  down  with  the  freshet  the  other  day,  and  here 
it  will  stay  until  a  flood  sweeps  it  out  into  the  main 
stream.  Well,  here's  our  room,  and  here  are  some 
books,  and  here  is  my  tobacco  pouch,  and  we  must 
try  and  put  in  the  night  as  best  we  may." 

By  the  light  of  our  single  lantern  the  great  lonely 
room  looked  very  gaunt  and  dreary.  Save  for  the 
piles  of  staves  and  heaps  of  hoops  there  was  abso- 
lutely nothing  in  it,  with  the  exception  of  the  mattress 
for  the  Doctor,  which  had  been  laid  in  the  corner. 
We  made  a  couple  of  seats  and  a  table  out  of  the 
staves,  and  settled  down  together  for  a  long  vigil. 
Severall  had  brought  a  revolver  for  me,  and  was 
himself  armed  with  a  double-barrelled  shot-gun.  We 
loaded  our  weapons  and  laid  them  cocked  within  reach 
of  our  hands.  The  little  circle  of  light  and  the  black 
shadows  arching  over  us  were  so  melancholy  that  he 
went  off  to  the  house,  and  returned  with  two  candles. 


THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE     333 

One  side  of  the  cooperage  was  pierced,  however,  by 
several  open  windows,  and  it  was  cvnly  by  screening 
our  lights  behind  staves  that  we  could  prevent  them 
from  being  extinguished. 

The  Doctor,  who  appeared  to  be  a  man  of  iron 
nerves,  had  settled  down  to  a  book,  but  I  observed 
that  every  now  and  then  he  laid  it  upon  his  knee,  and 
took  an  earnest  look  all  round  him.  For  my  part, 
although  I  tried  once  or  twice  to  read,  I  found  it 
impossible  to  concentrate  my  thoughts  upon  the  book. 
They  would  always  wander  back  to  this  great  empty 
silent  room,  and  to  the  sinister  mystery  which  over- 
shadowed it.  I  racked  my  brains  for  some  possible 
theory  which  would  explain  the  disappearance  of  these 
two  men.  There  was  the  black  fact  that  they  were 
gone,  and  not  the  least  tittle  of  evidence  as  to  why 
or  whither.  And  here  we  were  waiting  in  the  same 
place— waiting  without  an  idea  as  to  what  we  were 
waiting  for.  I  was  right  in  saying  that  it  was  not  a 
one-man  job.  It  was  trying  enough  as  it  was,  but  no 
force  upon  earth  would  have  kept  me  there  without 
a  comrade. 

What  an  endless,  tedious  night  it  was!  Outside 
we  heard  the  lapping  and  gurgling  of  the  great  river, 
and  the  soughing  of  the  rising  wind.  Within,  save  for 
our  breathing,  the  turning  of  the  Doctor's  pages,  and 
the  high,  shrill  ping  of  an  occasional  mosquito,  there 
was  a  heavy  silence.  Once  my  heart  sprang  into  my 
mouth  as  SeveraU's  book  suddenly  fell  to  the  ground 
and  he  sprang  to  his  feet  with  his  eyes  on  one  of  the 
windows. 

"  Did  you  see  anything,  Meldrum  ? " 


334  THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE 

"No.    Did  you ?" 

"  Well,  I  had  a  vague  sense  of  movement  outside 
that  window."  He  caught  up  his  gun  and  ap- 
proached it.  "No,  there's  nothing  to  be  seen,  and 
yet  I  could  have  sworn  that  something  passed  slowly 
across  it." 

"A  palm  leaf,  perhaps,"  said  I,  for  the  wind  was 
growing  stronger  every  instant. 

"Very  likely,"  said  he,  and  settled  down  to  his 
book  again,  but  his  eyes  were  for  ever  darting  little 
suspicious  glances  up  at  the  window.  I  watched  it 
also,  but  all  was  quiet  outside. 

And  then  suddenly  our  thoughts  were  turned  into  a 
new  direction  by  the  bursting  of  the  storm.  A  blind- 
ing flash  was  followed  by  a  clap  which  shook  the  build- 
ing. Again  and  again  came  the  vivid  white  glare  with 
thunder  at  the  same  instant,  like  the  flash  and  roar  of 
a  monstrous  piece  of  artillery.  And  then  down  came 
the  tropical  rain,  crashing  and  rattling  on  the  cor- 
rugated iron  roofing  of  the  cooperage.  The  big  hollow 
room  boomed  like  a  drum.  From  the  darkness  arose  a 
strange  mixture  of  noises,  a  gurgling,  splashing,  tink- 
ling, bubbling,  washing,  dripping — every  liquid  sound 
that  nature  can  produce  from  the  thrashing  and  swish- 
ing of  the  rain  to  the  deep  steady  boom  of  the  river. 
Hour  after  hour  the  uproar  grew  louder  and  more 
sustained. 

"  My  word,"  said  Severall,  "  we  are  going  to  have 
the  father  of  all  the  floods  this  time.  Well,  here's  the 
dawn  coming  at  last  and  that  is  a  blessing.  We've 
about  exploded  the  third  night  superstition  anyhow." 

A  grey  light  was  stealing  through  the  room,  and 


THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE  335 

there  was  the  day  upon  us  in  an  instant.  The  rain 
had  eased  off,  but  the  coffee-coloured  river  was  roaring 
past  like  a  waterfall.  Its  power  made  me  fear  for  the 
anchor  of  the  Gamecock. 

"T  must  get  aboard/'  said  I.  "If  she  drags  she'll 
never  be  able  to  beat  up  the  river  again." 

"  The  island  is  as  good  as  a  breakwater,"  the  Doctor 
answered.  "  I  can  give  you  a  cup  of  coffee  if  you  wiU 
come  up  to  the  house." 

I  was  chilled  and  miserable,  so  the  suggestion  was 
a  welcome  one.  We  left  the  ill-omened  cooperage 
with  its  mystery  still  unsolved,  and  we  splashed  our 
way  up  to  the  house. 

"  There's  the  spirit  lamp,"  said  Severall.  "  If  you 
would  just  put  a  light  to  it,  I  will  see  how  Walker 
feels  this  morning.' ' 

He  left  me,  but  was  back  in  an  instant  with  a 
dreadful  face. 

"  He's  gone ! "  he  cried  hoarsely. 

The  words  sent  a  thrill  of  horror  through  me.  I 
stood  with  the  lamp  in  my  hand,  glaring  at  him. 

"  Yes,  he's  gone ! "  he  repeated.  "  Come  and 
look!" 

I  followed  him  without  a  word,  and  the  first  thiDg 
that  I  saw  as  I  entered  the  bedroom  was  Walker 
himself  lying  huddled  on  his  bed  in  the  grey  flannel 
sleeping  suit  in  which  I  had  helped  to  dress  him  on 
the  night  before. 

"Not  dead,  surely ! "  I  gasped. 

The  Doctor  was  terribly  agitated.  His  hands  were 
shaking  like  leaves  in  the  wind. 

"  He's  been  dead  some  hours." 


336  THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE 

"Was  it  fever?" 

"Fever!     Look  at  his  foot !  " 

I  glanced  down  and  a  cry  of  horror  burst  from  my 
lips.  One  foot  was  not  merely  dislocated  but  was 
turned  completely  round  in  a  most  grotesque  con- 
tortion. 

"  Good  God ! "  I  cried.  *  What  can  have  done 
this  ? » 

Severall  had  laid  his  hand  upon  the  dead  man's 
chest. 

"  Feel  here,"  he  whispered. 

I  placed  my  hand  at  the  same  spot.  There  was 
no  resistance.  The  body  was  absolutely  soft  and 
limp.     It  was  like  pressing  a  sawdust  doll. 

"The  breast-bone  is  gone,"  said  Severall  in  the 
same  awed  whisper.  "  He's  broken  to  bits.  Thank 
God  that  he  had  the  laudanum.  You  can  see  by  his 
face  that  he  died  in  his  sleep." 

"  But  who  can  have  done  this  ? " 

"  I've  had  about  as  much  as  I  can  stand,"  said  the 
Doctor,  wiping  his  forehead.  "  I  don't  know  that 
I'm  a  greater  coward  than  my  neighbours,  but  this 
gets  beyond  me.  If  you're  going  out  to  the  Game- 
cock  " 

"Come  on!"  said  I,  and  off  we  started.  If  we 
did  not  run  it  was  because  each  of  us  wished  to  keep 
up  the  last  shadow  of  his  self-respect  before  the  other. 
It  was  dangerous  in  a  light  canoe  on  that  swollen 
river,  but  we  never  paused  to  give  the  matter  a 
thought.  He  bailing  and  I  paddling  we  kept  her 
above  water,  and  gained  the  deck  of  the  yacht. 
There,  with  two  hundred  yards  of  water  between  us 


THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE     337 

and  this  cursed  island,  we  felt  that  we  were  our  own 
men  once  more. 

"  We'U  go  back  in  an  hour  or  so,"  said  he.  "  But 
we  need  a  little  time  to  steady  ourselves.  I  wouldn't 
have  had  the  niggers  see  me  as  I  was  just  now  for 
a  year's  salary.0 

"  I've  told  the  steward  to  prepare  breakfast.  Then 
we  shall  go  back,"  said  I.  "But  in  God's  name, 
Doctor  Severall,  what  do  you  make  of  it  all  ? " 

"It  beats  me — beats  me  clean.  I've  heard  of 
Voodoo  devilry,  and  I've  laughed  at  it  with  the 
others.  But  that  poor  old  Walker,  a  decent,  God- 
fearing, nineteenth-century,  Primrose-League  English- 
man should  go  under  like  this  without  a  whole  bone 
in  his  body — it's  given  me  a  shake,  I  won't  deny  it. 
But  look  there,  Meldrum,  is  that  hand  of  yours  mad 
or  drunk,  or  what  is  it  ?  " 

Old  Patterson,  the  oldest  man  of  my  crew,  and 
as  steady  as  the  Pyramids,  had  been  stationed  in 
the  bows  with  a  boat-hook  to  fend  off  the  drifting 
logs  which  came  sweeping  down  with  the  current. 
Now  he  stood  with  crooked  knees,  glaring  out  in  front 
of  him,  and  one  forefinger  stabbing  furiously  at 
the  air. 

"  Look  at  it ! "  he  yelled.    "  Look  at  it ! " 

And  at  the  same  instant  we  saw  it. 

A  huge  black  tree  trunk  was  coming  down  the 
river,  its  broad  glistening  back  just  lapped  by  the 
water.  And  in  front  of  it — about  three  feet  in  front — 
arching  upwards  like  the  figure-head  of  a  ship,  there 
hung  a  dreadful  face,  swaying  slowly  from  side  to 
side.    It  was  flattened,  malignant,  as  large  as  a  small 

z 


338  THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE 

beer-barrel,  of  a  faded  fungoid  colour,  but  the  neck 
which  supported  it  was  mottled  with  a  dull  yellow 
and  black.  As  it  flew  past  the  Gamecock  in  the 
swirl  of  the  waters  I  saw  two  immense  coils  roll  up 
out  of  some  great  hollow  in  the  tree,  and  the  villainous 
head  rose  suddenly  to  the  height  of  eight  or  ten  feet, 
looking  with  dull,  skin-covered  eyes  at  the  yacht. 
An  instant  later  the  tree  had  shot  past  us  and  was 
plunging  with  its  horrible  passenger  towards  the 
Atlantic. 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  I  cried. 

"  It  is  our  fiend  of  the  cooperage,"  said  Dr. 
Severall,  and  he  had  become  in  an  instant  the  same 
bluff,  self-confident  man  that  he  had  been  before. 
"  Yes,  that  is  the  devil  who  has  been  haunting  our 
island.     It  is  the  great  python  of  the  Gaboon." 

I  thought  of  the  stories  which  I  had  heard  all 
down  the  coast  of  the  monstrous  constrictors  of  the 
interior,  of  their  periodical  appetite,  and  of  the 
murderous  effects  of  their  deadly  squeeze.  Then  it 
all  took  shape  in  my  mind.  There  had  been  a  freshet 
the  week  before.  It  had  brought  down  this  huge 
hollow  tree  with  its  hideous  occupant.  Who  knows 
from  what  far  distant  tropical  forest  it  may  have  come. 
It  had  been  stranded  on  the  little  east  bay  of  the 
island.  The  cooperage  had  been  the  nearest  house. 
Twice  with  the  return  of  its  appetite  it  had  carried 
off  the  watchman.  Last  night  it  had  doubtless  come 
again,  when  Severall  had  thought  he  saw  something 
move  at  the  window,  but  our  lights  had  driven  it 
away.  It  had  writhed  onwards  and  had  slain  poor 
Walker  in  his  sleep. 


THE  FIEND  OF  THE  COOPERAGE     339 

"Why  did  it  not  carry  him  off ?  "  I  asked. 

"  The  thunder  and  lightning  must  have  scared  the 
brute  away.  There's  your  steward,  Meldrum.  The 
sooner  we  have  breakfast  and  get  back  to  the  island 
the  better,  or  some  of  those  niggers  might  think  that 
we  had  been  frightened." 


JELLAND'S  VOYAGE 

"Well,"  said  our  Anglo- Jap  as  we  all  drew  up  our 
chairs  round  the  smoking-room  fire,  "  it's  an  old  tale 
out  yonder,  and  may  have  spilt  over  into  print  for  all 
I  know.  I  don't  want  to  turn  this  club-room  into  a 
chestnut  stall,  but  it  is  a  long  way  to  the  Yellow  Sea, 
and  it  is  just  as  likely  that  none  of  you  have  ever 
heard  of  the  yawl  Matilda,  and  of  what  happened  to 
Henry  Jelland  and  Willy  McEvoy  aboard  of  her. 

"  The  middle  of  the  sixties  was  a  stirring  time  out 
in  Japan.  That  was  just  after  the  Simonosaki  bom- 
bardment, and  before  the  Daimio  affair.  There  was  a 
Tory  party  and  there  was  a  Liberal  party  among  the 
natives,  and  the  question  that  they  were  wrangling 
over  was  whether  the  throats  of  the  foreigners  should 
be  cut  or  not.  I  tell  you  all,  politics  have  been  tame 
to  me  since  then.  If  you  lived  in  a  treaty  port,  you 
were  bound  to  wake  up  and  take  an  interest  in  them. 
And  to  make  it  better,  the  outsider  had  no  way  of 
knowing  how  the  game  was  going.  If  the  opposition 
won  it  would  not  be  a  newspaper  paragraph  that  would 
tell  him  of  it,  but  a  good  old  Tory  in  a  suit  of  chain 
mail,  with  a  sword  in  each  hand,  would  drop  in  and 
let  him  know  all  about  it  in  a  single  upper  cut. 

*  Of  course  it  makes  men  reckless  when  they  are 
340 


JELLAND'S  VOYAGE  341 

living  on  the  edge  of  a  volcano  like  that.  Just  at  first 
they  are  very  jumpy,  and  then  there  comes  a  time  when 
they  learn  to  enjoy  life  while  they  have  it.  I  tell  you, 
there's  nothing  makes  life  so  beautiful  as  when  the 
shadow  of  death  begins  to  fall  across  it.  Time  is  too 
precious  to  be  dawdled  away  then,  and  a  man  lives 
every  minute  of  it.  That  was  the  way  with  us  in 
Yokohama.  There  were  many  European  places  of 
business  which  had  to  go  on  running,  and  the  men 
who  worked  them  made  the  place  lively  for  seven 
nights  in  the  week. 

"One  of  the  heads  of  the  European  colony  was 
Eandolph  Moore,  the  big  export  merchant.  His  offices 
were  in  Yokohama,  but  he  spent  a  good  deal  of  his 
time  at  his  house  up  in  Jeddo,  which  had  only 
just  been  opened  to  the  trade.  In  his  absence  he 
used  to  leave  his  affairs  in  the  hands  of  his  head 
clerk,  Jelland,  whom  he  knew  to  be  a  man  of  great 
energy  and  resolution.  But  energy  and  resolution 
are  two-edged  things,  you  know,  and  when  they  are 
used  against  you  you  don't  appreciate  them  so  much. 

"It  was  gambling  that  set  Jelland  wrong.  He 
was  a  little  dark-eyed  fellow  with  black  curly  hair 
— more  than  three-quarters  Celt,  I  should  imagine. 
Every  night  in  the  week  you  would  see  him  in  the 
same  place,  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  croupier  at 
Matheson's  rouge  et  now  table.  For  a  long  time  he 
won,  and  lived  in  better  style  than  his  employer. 
And  then  came  a  turn  of  luck,  and  he  began  to 
lose  so  that  at  the  end  of  a  single  week  his  partner 
and  he  were  stone  broke,  without  a  dollar  to  their 
names. 


342  JELLAND'S  VOYAGE 

"This  partner  was  a  clerk  in  the  employ  of  the 
same  firm — a  tall,  straw-haired  young  Englishman 
called  McEvoy.  He  was  a  good  boy  enough  at  the 
start,  but  he  was  clay  in  the  hands  of  Jelland,  who 
fashioned  him  into  a  kind  of  weak  model  of  himself. 
They  were  for  ever  on  the  prowl  together,  but  it  was 
Jelland  who  led  and  McEvoy  who  followed.  Lynch 
and  I  and  one  or  two  others  tried  to  show  the  youngster 
that  he  could  come  to  no  good  along  that  line,  and 
when  we  were  talking  to  him  we  could  win  him  round 
easily  enough,  but  five  minutes  of  Jelland  would  swing 
him  back  again.  It  may  have  been  animal  magnetism 
or  what  you  like,  but  the  little  man  could  pull  the  big 
one  along  like  a  sixty-foot  tug  in  front  of  a  full-rigged 
ship.  Even  when  they  had  lost  all  their  money  they 
would  still  take  their  places  at  the  table  and  look  on 
with  shining  eyes  when  any  one  else  was  raking  in  the 
stamps.  .  . 

"But  one  evening  they  could  keep  out  of  it  no 
longer.  Eed  had  turned  up  sixteen  times  running, 
and  it  was  more  than  Jelland  could  bear.  He 
whispered  to  McEvoy,  and  then  said  a  word  to  the 
croupier. 

"'Certainly,  Mr.  Jelland;  your  cheque  is  as  good 
as  notes/  said  he. 

"Jelland  scribbled  a  cheque  and  threw  it  on  the 
black.  The  card  was  the  king  of  hearts,  and  the 
croupier  raked  in  the  little  bit  of  paper.  Jelland 
grew  angry,  and  McEvoy  white.  Another  and  a 
heavier  cheque  was  written  and  thrown  on  the  table. 
The  card  was  the  nine  of  diamonds.  McEvoy  leaned 
his  head  upon  his  hands  and  looked  as  if  he  would 


JELLAND'S  VOYAGE  343 

faint.  *.  By  God ! '  growled  Jelland, '  I  won't  be  beat/ 
and  he  threw  on  a  cheque  that  covered  the  other  two. 
The  card  was  the  deuce  of  hearts.  A  few  minutes 
later  they  were  walking  down  the  Bund,  with  the  cool 
night-air  playing  upon  their  fevered  faces. 

"'Of  course  you  know  what  this  means/  said 
Jelland,  lighting  a  cheroot;  'we'll  have  to  transfer 
some  of  the  office  money  to  our  current  account. 
There's  no  occasion  to  make  a  fuss  over  it.  Old 
Moore  won't  look  over  the  books  before  Easter.  If 
we  have  any  luck,  we  can  easily  replace  it  before 
then/ 

" '  But  if  we  have  no  luck  ?  -  faltered  McEvoy. 

"'Tut,  man,  we  must  take  things  as  they  come. 
You  stick  to  me,  and  I'll  stick  to  you,  and  we'll  pull 
through  together.  You  shall  sign  the  cheques  to- 
morrow night,  and  we  shall  see  if  your  luck  is  better 
than  mine/ 

"But  if  anything  it  was  worse.  When  the  pair 
rose  from  the  table  on  the  following  evening,  they  had 
spent  over  £5,000  of  their  employer's  money.  But  the 
resolute  Jelland  was  as  sanguine  as  ever. 

" '  We  have  a  good  nine  weeks  before  us  before  the 
books  will  be  examined/  said  he.  '  We  must  play  the 
game  out,  and  it  will  all  come  straight.' 

"McEvoy  returned  to  his  rooms  that  night  in  an 
agony  of  shame  and  remorse.  When  he  was  with 
Jelland  he  borrowed  strength  from  him ;  but  alone  he 
recognized  the  full  danger  of  his  position,  and  the 
vision  of  his  old  white-capped  mother  in  England, 
who  had  been  so  proud  when  he  had  received  his 
appointment,  rose  up  before  him  to   fill    him  with 


344  JELLAND'S  VOYAGE 

loathing  and  madness.  He  was  still  tossing  upon  his 
sleepless  couch  when  his  Japanese  servant  entered 
the  bedroom.  For  an  instant  McEvoy  thought  that 
the  long-expected  outbreak  had  come,  and  plunged 
for  his  revolver.  Then,  with  his  heart  in  his  mouth, 
he  listened  to  the  message  which  the  servant  had 
brought. 

"  Jelland  was  downstairs,  and  wanted  to  see  him. 

"What  on  earth  could  he  want  at  that  hour  of 
night  ?  McEvoy  dressed  hurriedly  and  rushed  down- 
stairs. His  companion,  with  a  set  smile  upon  his  lips, 
which  was  belied  by  the  ghastly  pallor  of  his  face, 
was  sitting  in  the  dim  light  of  a  solitary  candle,  with 
a  slip  of  paper  in  his  hands. 

"'Sorry  to  knock  you  up,  Willy/  said  he.  'No 
eavesdroppers,  I  suppose  ? ' 

"McEvoy  shook  his  head.  He  could  not  trust 
himself  to  speak. 

"  ■  Well,  then,  our  little  game  is  played  out.  This 
note  was  waiting  for  me  at  home.  It  is  from  Moore, 
and  says  that  he  will  be  down  on  Monday  morning 
for  an  examination  of  the  books.  It  leaves  us  in  a 
tight  place.' 

" '  Monday ! '  gasped  McEvoy ;  '  to-day  is  Friday.' 

"'Saturday,  my  son,  and  3  a.m.  We  have  not 
much  time  to  turn  round  in.' 

" '  We  are  lost ! '  screamed  McEvoy. 

"  •  We  soon  will  be,  if  you  make  such  an  infernal 
row,'  said  Jelland  harshly.  '  Now  do  what  I  tell  you, 
Willy,  and  we'll  pull  through  yet.' 

" '  I  will  do  anything — anything.' 

"'That's  better.    Where's    your  whisky?    It's  a 


JELLAND'S  VOYAGE  345 

beastly  time  of  the  day  to  have  to  get  your  back  stiff, 
but  there  must  be  no  softness  with  us,  or  we  are  gone. 
First  of  all,  I  think  there  is  something  due  to  our 
relations,  don't  you  ? ' 

"  McEvoy  stared. 

" '  We  must  stand  or  fall  together,  you  know.  Now 
I,  for  one,  don't  intend  to  set  my  foot  inside  a  felon's 
dock  under  any  circumstances.  D'ye  see  ?  I'm  ready 
to  swear  to  that.    Are  you  ? ' 

"'What  d'you  mean?'  asked  McEvoy,  shrinking 
back. 

" '  Why,  man,  we  all  have  to  die,  and  it's  only  the 
pressing  of  a  trigger.  I  swear  that  I  shall  never  be 
taken  alive.  Will  you  ?  If  you  don't,  I  leave  you  to 
your  fate.' 

*  ■  All  right.    I'll  do  whatever  you  think  best/ 

"'You  swear  it?' 

"'Yes.' 

"Well,  mind,  you  must  be  as  good  as  your 
word.  Now  we  have  two  clear  days  to  get  off  in. 
The  yawl  Matilda  is  on  sale,  and  she  has  all  her 
fixings  and  plenty  of  tinned  stuff  aboard.  We'll  buy 
the  lot  to-morrow  morning,  and  whatever  we  want,  and 
get  away  in  her.  But,  first,  we'll  clear  all  that  is  left 
in  the  office.  There  are  5,000  sovereigns  in  the  safe. 
After  dark  we'll  get  them  aboard  the  yawl,  and  take 
our  chance  of  reaching  California.  There's  no  use 
hesitating,  my  son,  for  we  have  no  ghost  of  a  look-in 
in  any  other  direction.    It's  that  or  nothing/ 

"  '  I'll  do  what  you  advise/ 

"'All  right;  and  mind  you  get  a  bright  face  on 
you  to-morrow,  for  if  Moore  gets  the  tip  and  comes 


346  JELLAND'S  VOYAGE 

before  Monday,  then '    He  tapped  the  side-pocket 

of  his  coab  and  looked  across  at  his  partner  with  eyes 
that  were  full  of  a  sinister  meaning. 

"All  went  well  with  their  plans  next  day.  The 
Matilda  was  bought  without  difficulty;  and,  though 
she  was  a  tiny  craft  for  so  long  a  voyage,  had  she  been 
larger  two  men  could  not  have  hoped  to  manage  her. 
She  was  stocked  with  water  during  the  day,  and  after 
dark  the  two  clerks  brought  down  the  money  from  the 
office  and  stowed  it  in  the  hold.  Before  midnight  they 
had  collected  all  their  own  possessions  without  exciting 
suspicion,  and  at  two  in  the  morning  they  left  their 
moorings  and  stole  quietly  out  from  among  the  ship- 
ping. They  were  seen,  of  course,  and  were  set  down 
as  keen  yachtsmen  who  were  on  for  a  good  long  Sunday 
cruise;  but  there  was  no  one  who  dreamed  that  that 
cruise  would  only  end  either  on  the  American  coast  or 
at  the  bottom  of  the  North  Pacific  Ocean.  Straining 
and  hauling,  they  got  their  mainsail  up  and  set  their 
foresail  and  jib.  There  was  a  slight  breeze  from  the 
south-east,  and  the  little  craft  went  dipping  along  upon 
her  way.  Seven  miles  from  land,  however,  the  wind 
fell  away  and  they  lay  becalmed,  rising'  and  falling  on 
the  long  swell  of  a  glassy  sea.  All  Sunday  they  did 
not  make  a  mile,  and  in  the  evening  Yokohama  still 
lay  along  the  horizon. 

"  On  Monday  morning  down  came  Randolph  Moore 
from  Jeddo,  and  made  straight  for  the  offices.  He  had 
had  the  tip  from  some  one  that  his  clerks  had  been 
spreading  themselves  a  bit,  and  that  had  made  him 
come  down  out  of  his  usual  routine  ;  but  when  he 
reached  his  place  and  found  the  three  juniors  waiting 


JELLAND'S  VOYAGE  347 

in  the  street  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets  he  knew 
that  the  matter  was  serious. 

" '  What's  this  ? '  he  asked.  He  was  a  man  of 
action,  and  a  nasty  chap  to  deal  with  when  he  had  his 
topmasts  lowered. 

"  ?  We  can't  get  in,'  said  the  clerks. 

"'Where  is  Mr.  Jelland?' 

" '  He  has  not  come  to-day.' 

"'And  Mr.  McEvoy?' 

" '  He  has  not  come  either.' 

"  Randolph  Moore  looked  serious.  '■  We  must  have 
the  door  down/  said  he. 

"  They  don't  build  houses  very  solid  in  that  land  of 
earthquakes,  and  in  a  brace  of  shakes  they  were  all  in 
the  office.  Of  course  the  thing  told  its  own  story. 
The  safe  was  open,  the  money  gone,  and  the  clerks  fled. 
Their  employer  lost  no  time  in  talk. 

" '  Where  were  they  seen  last  ? ' 

"'On  Saturday  they  bought  the  Matilda  and 
started  for  a  cruise.' 

"Saturday!  The  matter  seemed  hopeless  if  they 
had  got  two  days'  start.  But  there  was  still  the 
shadow  of  a  chance.  He  rushed  to  the  beach  and 
swept  the  ocean  with  his  glasses. 

"  '  My  God ! '  he  cried.  ■  There's  the  Matilda  out 
yonder.  I  know  her  by  the  rake  of  her  mast.  I  have 
my  hand  upon  the  villains  after  all ! ' 

"But  there  was  a  hitch  even  then.  "No  boat  had 
steam  up,  and  the  eager  merchant  had  not  patience  to 
wait.  Clouds  were  banking  up  along  the  haunch  of 
the  hills,  and  there  was  every  sign  of  an  approaching 
change  of  weather.    A  police  boat  was  ready  with 


348  JELLAND'S  VOYAGE 

ten  armed  men  in  her,  and  Randolph  Moore  himself 
took  the  tiller  as  she  shot  out  in  pursuit  of  the  becalmed 
yawl. 

"Jelland  and  McEvoy,  waiting  wearily  for  the 
breeze  which  never  came,  saw  the  dark  speck  which 
sprang  out  from  the  shadow  of  the  land  and  grew 
larger  with  every  swish  of  the  oars.  As  she  drew 
nearer,  they  could  see  also  that  she  was  packed  with 
men,  and  the  gleam  of  weapons  told  what  manner  of 
men  they  were.  Jelland  stood  leaning  against  the 
tiller,  and  he  looked  at  the  threatening  sky,  the  limp 
sails,  and  the  approaching  boat. 

"'It's  a  case  with  us,  Willy/  said  he.  'By  the 
Lord,  we  are  two  most  unlucky  devils,  for  there's  wind 
in  that  sky,  and  another  hour  would  have  brought  it 
to  us/ 

"  McEvoy  groaned. 

" '  There's  no  good  softening  over  it,  my  lad/  said 
Jelland.  '  It's  the  police  boat  right  enough,  and  there's 
old  Moore  driving  them  to  row  like  hell.  It'll  be  a 
ten-dollar  job  for  every  man  of  them/ 

"  Willy  McEvoy  crouched  against  the  side  with  his 
knees  on  the  deck.  '  My  mother !  my  poor  old 
mother ! '  he  sobbed. 

" '  She'll  never  hear  that  you  have  been  in  the  dock 
anyway/  said  Jelland.  'My  people  never  did  much 
for  me,  but  I  will  do  that  much  for  them.  It's  no 
good,  Mac.  We  can  chuck  our  hands.  God  bless 
you,  old  man  !    Here's  the  pistol ! ' 

"  He  cocked  the  revolver,  and  held  the  butt  towards 
the  youngster.  But  the  other  shrunk  away  from  it 
with  little  gasps  and  cries.    Jelland  glanced  at  the 


JELLAND'S  VOYAGE  349 

approaching  boat.  It  was  not  more  than  a  few 
hundred  yards  away. 

" '  There's  no  time  for  nonsense/  said  he.  '  Damn 
it!  man,  what's  the  use  of  flinching?  You  swore 
it!' 

"  '  No,  no,  Jelland ! ' 

" '  Well,  anyhow,  I  swore  that  neither  of  us  should 
be  taken.    Will  you  do  it  ? ' 

"  ■  I  can't !  I  can't  1 ' 

"'Then  I  will  for  you/ 

"The  rowers  in  the  boat  saw  him  lean  forwards, 
they  heard  two  pistol  shots,  they  saw  him  double  him- 
self across  the  tiller,  and  then,  before  the  smoke  had 
lifted,  they  found  that  they  had  something  else  to 
think  of. 

"  For  at  that  instant  the  storm  broke — one  of  those 
short  sudden  squalls  which  are  common  in  these  seas. 
The  Matilda  heeled  over,  her  sails  bellied  out,  she 
plunged  her  lee-rail  into  a  wave,  and  was  off  like  a 
frightened  deer.  Jelland's  body  had  jammed  the  helm, 
and  she  kept  a  course  right  before  the  wind,  and 
fluttered  away  over  the  rising  sea  like  a  blown  piece 
of  paper.  The  rowers  worked  frantically,  but  the  yawl 
still  drew  ahead,  and  in  five  minutes  it  had  plunged 
into  the  storm  wrack  never  to  be  seen  again  by  mortal 
eye.  The  boat  put  back,  and  reached  Yokohama  with 
the  water  washing  half-way  up  to  the  thwarts. 

"  And  that  was  how  it  came  that  the  yawl  Matilda, 
with  a  cargo  of  five  thousand  pounds  and  a  crew  of 
two  dead  young  men,  set  sail  across  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
What  the  end  of  Jelland's  voyage  may  have  been  no 
man  knows.    He  may  have  foundered  in  that  gale,  or 


350  JELLAND'S  VOYAGE 

he  may  have  been  picked  up  by  some  canny  merchant- 
man, who  stuck  to  the  bullion  and  kept  his  mouth 
shut,  or  he  may  still  be  cruising  in  that  vast  waste  of 
waters,  blown  north  to  the  Behring  Sea,  or  south  to  the 
Malay  Islands.  It's  better  to  leave  it  unfinished  than 
to  spoil  a  true  story  by  inventing  a  tag  to  it." 


B.  24 

I  told  my  story  when  I  was  taken,  and  no  one  would 
listen  to  me.  Then  I  told  it  again  at  the  trial — the 
whole  thing  absolutely  as  it  happened,  without  so 
much  as  a  word  added.  I  set  it  all  out  truly,  so  help 
me  God,  all  that  Lady  Mannering  said  and  did,  and 
then  all  that  I  had  said  and  done,  just  as  it  occurred. 
And  what  did  I  get  for  it  ?  "  The  prisoner  put  for- 
ward a  rambling  and  inconsequential  statement,  in- 
credible in  its  details,  and  unsupported  by  any  shred  of 
corroborative  evidence."  That  was  what  one  of  the 
London  papers  said,  and  others  let  it  pass  as  if  I  had 
made  no  defence  at  all.  And  yet,  with  my  own  eyes  I 
saw  Lord  Mannering  murdered,  and  I  am  as  guiltless 
of  it  as  any  man  on  the  jury  that  tried  me. 

Now,  sir,  you  are  there  to  receive  the  petitions  of 
prisoners.  It  all  lies  with  you.  All  I  ask  is  that  you 
read  it — just  read  it — and  then  that  you  make  an  in- 
quiry or  two  about  the  private  character  of  this  "  lady  " 
Mannering,  if  she  still  keeps  the  name  that  she  had 
three  years  ago,  when  to  my  sorrow  and  ruin  I  came 
to  meet  her.  You  could  use  a  private  inquiry 
agent  or  a  good  lawyer,  and  you  would  soon  learn 
enough  to  show  you  that  my  story  is  the  true  one. 
Think  of  the  glory  it  would  be  to  you  to  have  all  the 

351 


352  B.  24 

papers  saying  that  there  would  have  been  a  shocking 
miscarriage  of  justice  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  per- 
severance and  intelligence !  That  must  be  your  reward, 
since  I  am  a  poor  man  and  can  offer  you  nothing. 
But  if  you  don't  do  it,  may  you  never  lie  easy  in  your 
bed  again!  May  no  night  pass  that  you  are  not 
haunted  by  the  thought  of  the  man  who  rots  in  gaol 
because  you  have  not  done  the  duty  which  you  are  paid 
to  do !  But  you  will  do  it,  sir,  I  know.  Just  make 
one  or  two  inquiries,  and  you  will  soon  find  which  way 
the  wind  blows.  Eemember,  also,  that  the  only  person 
who  profited  by  the  crime  was  herself,  since  it  changed 
her  from  an  unhappy  wife  to  a  rich  young  widow. 
There's  the  end  of  the  string  in  your  hand,  and  you 
only  have  to  follow  it  up  and  see  where  it  leads  to. 

Mind  you,  sir,  I  make  no  complaint  as  far  as  the 
burglary  goes.  I  don't  whine  about  what  I  have 
deserved,  and  so  far  I  have  had  no  more  than  I  have 
deserved.  Burglary  it  was,  right  enough,  and  my  three 
years  have  gone  to  pay  for  it.  It  was  shown  at  the 
trial  that  I  had  had  a  hand  in  the  Merton  Cross 
business,  and  did  a  year  for  that,  so  my  story  had  the 
less  attention  on  that  account.  A  man  with  a  previous 
conviction  never  gets  a  really  fair  trial.  I  own  to  the 
burglary,  but  when  it  comes  to  the  murder  which 
brought  me  a  lifer — any  judge  but  Sir  James  might 
have  given  me  the  gallows — then  I  tell  you  that  I  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  that  I  am  an  innocent  man. 
And  now  I'll  take  that  night,  the  13  th  of  September, 
1894,  and  I'll  give  you  just  exactly  what  occurred,  and 
may  God's  hand  strike  me  down  if  I  go  one  inch  over 
the  truth. 


B.  24  353 

I  had  been  at  Bristol  in  the  summer  looking  for 
work,  and  then  I  had  a  notion  that  I  might  get  some- 
thing at  Portsmouth,  for  I  was  trained  as  a  skilled 
mechanic,  so  I  came  tramping  my  way  across  the  south 
of  England,  and  doing  odd  jobs  as  I  went.  I  was 
trying  all  I  knew  to  keep  off  the  cross,  for  I  had  done 
a  year  in  Exeter  Gaol,  and  I  had  had  enough  of  visiting 
Queen  Victoria.  But  it's  cruel  hard  to  get  work  when 
once  the  black  mark  is  against  your  name,  and  it  was 
all  I  could  do  to  keep  soul  and  body  together.  At  last, 
after  ten  days  of  wood-cutting  and  stone-breaking  on 
starvation  pay,  I  found  myself  near  Salisbury  with  a 
couple  of  shillings  in  my  pocket,  and  my  boots  and  my 
patience  clean  wore  out.  There's  an  ale-house  called 
"The  Willing  Mind,"  which  stands  on  the  road 
between  Blandford  and  Salisbury,  and  it  was  there  that 
night  I  engaged  a  bed.  I  was  sitting  alone  in  the  tap- 
room just  about  closing  time,  when  the  innkeeper — 
Allen  his  name  was— came  beside  me  and  began  yarn- 
ing about  the  neighbours.  He  was  a  man  that  liked 
to  talk  and  to  have  some  one  to  listen  to  his  talk,  so  I 
sat  there  smoking  and  drinking  a  mug  of  ale  which  he 
had  stood  me ;  and  I  took  no  great  interest  in  what  he 
said  until  he  began  to  talk  (as  the  devil  would  have  it) 
about  the  riches  of  Mannering  Hall. 

"Meaning  the  large  house  on  the  right  before  I 
came  to  the  village  ? "  said  I.  "  The  one  that  stands 
in  its  own  park  ? " 

"  Exactly,"  said  he — and  I  am  giving  all  our  talk 
so  that  you  may  know  that  I  am  telling  you  the  truth 
and  hiding  nothing.  "  The  long  white  house  with  the 
pillars,"  said  he.    "  At  the  side  of  the  Blandford  Koad ." 

2  A 


354  B.  21 

Now  I  had  looked  at  it  as  I  passed,  and  it  had 
crossed  my  mind,  as  such  thoughts  will,  that  it  was  a 
very  easy  house  to  get  into  with  that  great  row  of 
ground  windows  and  glass  doors.  I  had  put  the 
thought  away  from  me,  and  now  here  was  this  land- 
lord bringing  it  back  with  his  talk  about  the  riches 
within.  I  said  nothing,  but  I  listened,  and  as  luck 
would  have  it,  he  would  always  come  back  to  this  one 
subject. 

"  He  was  a  miser  young,  so  you  can  think  what  he 
is  now  in  his  age,"  said  he.  "Well,  he's  had  some 
good  out  of  his  money." 

"  What  good  can  he  have  had  if  he  does  not  spend 
it?"  said  I. 

"  Well,  it  bought  him  the  prettiest  wife  in  England, 
and  that  was  some  good  that  he  got  out  of  it.  She 
thought  she  would  have  the  spending  of  it,  but  she 
knows  the  difference  now." 

"  Who  was  she  then  ? "  I  asked,  just  for  the  sake  of 
something  to  say. 

"  She  was  nobody  at  all  until  the  old  Lord  made 
her  his  Lady,"  said  he.  "  She  came  from  up  London 
way,  and  some  said  that  she  had  been  on  the  stage 
there,  but  nobody  knew.  The  old  Lord  was  away  for  a 
year,  and  when  he  came  home  he  brought  a  young  wife 
back  with  him,  and  there  she  has  been  ever  since. 
Stephens,  the  butler,  did  tell  me  once  that  she  was  the 
light  of  the  house  when  fust  she  came,  but  what  with 
her  husband's  mean  and  aggravatin'  way,  and  what 
with  her  loneliness — for  he  hates  to  see  a  visitor 
within  his  doors ;  and  what  With  his  bitter  words — 
for  he  has  a  tongue  like  a  hornet's  sting,  her  life  all 


B.  24  355 

went  out  of  her,  and  she  became  a  white,  silent 
creature,  moping  about  the  country  lanes.  Some  say- 
that  she  loved  another  man,  and  that  it  was  just  the 
riches  of  the  old  Lord  which  tempted  her  to  be  false 
to  her  lover,  and  that  now  she  is  eating  her  heart 
out  because  she  has  lost  the  one  without  being  any 
nearer  to  the  other,  for  she  might  be  the  poorest 
woman  in  the  parish  for  all  the  money  that  she  has 
the  handling  of." 

Well,  sir,  you  can  imagine  that  it  did  not  interest 
me  very  much  to  hear  about  the  quarrels  between  a 
Lord  and  a  Lady.  What  did  it  matter  to  me  if  she 
hated  the  sound  of  his  voice,  or  if  he  put  every 
indignity  upon  her  in  the  hope  of  breaking  her  spirit, 
and  spoke  to  her  as  he  would  never  have  dared  to 
speak  to  one  of  his  servants  ?  The  landlord  told 
me  of  these  things,  and  of  many  more  like  them, 
but  they  passed  out  of  my  mind,  for  they  were  no 
concern  of  mine.  But  what  I  did  want  to  hear  was 
the  form  in  which  Lord  Mannering  kept  his  riches. 
Title-deeds  and  stock  certificates  are  but  paper, 
and  more  danger  than  profit  to  the  man  who  takes 
them.  But  metal  and  stones  are  worth  a  risk.  And 
then,  as  if  he  were  answering  my  very  thoughts,  the 
landlord  told  me  of  Lord  Mannering*  s  great  collection 
of  gold  medals,  that  it  was  the  most  valuable  in 
the  world,  and  that  it  was  reckoned  that  if  they 
were  put  into  a  sack  the  strongest  man  in  the  parish 
would  not  be  able  to  raise  them.  Then  his  wife  called 
him,  and  he  and  I  went  to  our  beds. 

I  am  not  arguing  to  make  out  a  case  for  myself, 
but  I  beg  you,  sir,  to  bear  all  the  facts  in  your 


356  B.  24 

mind,  and  to  ask  yourself  whether  a  man  could  be 
more  sorely  tempted  than  I  was.  I  make  bold  to 
say  that  there  are  few  who  could  have  held  out  against 
it.  There  I  lay  on  my  bed  that  night,  a  desperate 
man  without  hope  or  work,  and  with  my  last  shilling 
in  my  pocket.  I  had  tried  to  be  honest,  and  honest 
folk  had  turned  their  backs  upon  me.  They  taunted 
me  for  theft;  and  yet  they  pushed  me  towards  it. 
I  was  caught  in  the  stream  and  could  not  get  out. 
And  then  it  was  such  a  chance :  the  great  house  all 
lined  with  windows,  the  golden  medals  which  could 
so  easily  be  melted  down.  It  was  like  putting  a  loaf 
before  a  starving  man  and  expecting  him  not  to  eat 
it.  I  fought  against  it  for  a  time,  but  it  was  no 
use.  At  last  I  sat  up  on  the  side  of  my  bed,  and  I 
swore  that  that  night  I  should  either  be  a  rich  man 
and  able  to  give  up  crime  for  ever,  or  that  the  irons 
should  be  on  my  wrists  once  more.  Then  I  slipped 
on  my  clothes,  and,  having  put  a  shilling  on  the  table 
— for  the  landlord  had  treated  me  well,  and  I  did 
not  wish  to  cheat  him — I  passed  out  through  the 
window  into  the  garden  of  the  inn. 

There  was  a  high  wall  round  this  garden,  and 
I  had  a  job  to  get  over  it,  but  once  on  the  other 
side  it  was  all  plain  sailing.  I  did  not  meet  a  soul 
upon  the  road,  and  the  iron  gate  of  the  avenue  was 
open.  No  one  was  moving  at  the  lodge.  The  moon 
was  shining,  and  I  could  see  the  great  house  glimmer- 
ing white  through  an  archway  of  trees.  I  walked 
up  it  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  so,  until  I  was  at 
the  edge  of  the  drive,  where  it  ended  in  a  broad, 
gravelled  space  before  the  main  door.    There  I  stood 


B.  24  357 

in  the  shadow  and  looked  at  the  long  building,  with 
a  full  moon  shining  in  every  window  and  silvering 
the  high  stone  front.  I  crouched  there  for  some  time, 
and  I  wondered  where  I  should  find  the  easiest 
entrance.  The  corner  window  of  the  side  seemed 
to  be  the  one  which  was  least  overlooked,  and  a  screen 
of  ivy  hung  heavily  over  it.  My  best  chance  was 
evidently  there.  I  worked  my  way  under  the  trees 
to  the  back  of  the  house,  and  then  crept  along  in 
the  black  shadow  of  the  building.  A  dog  barked  and 
rattled  his  chain,  but  I  stood  waiting  until  he  was 
quiet,  and  then  I  stole  on  once  more  until  I  came  to 
the  window  which  I  had  chosen. 

It  is  astonishing  how  careless  they  are  in  the 
country,  in  places  far  removed  from  large  towns, 
where  the  thought  of  burglars  never  enters  their 
heads.  I  call  it  setting  temptation  in  a  poor  man's 
way  when  he  puts  his  hand,  meaning  no  harm, 
upon  a  door,  and  finds  it  swing  open  before  him. 
In  this  case  it  was  not  so  bad  as  that,  but  the  window 
was  merely  fastened  with  the  ordinary  catch,  which 
I  opened  with  a  push  from  the  blade  of  my  knife. 
I  pulled  up  the  window  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
then  I  thrust  the  knife  through  the  slit  in  the  shutter 
and  prized  it  open.  They  were  folding  shutters,  and 
I  shoved  them  before  me  and  walked  into  the  room. 

"  Good  evening,  sir  I  You  are  very  welcome ! " 
said  a  voice. 

I've  had  some  starts  in  my  life,  but  never  one  to 
come  up  to  that  one.  There,  in  the  opening  of  the 
shutters,  within  reach  of  my  arm,  was  standing  a 
woman  with  a  small  coil  of  wax  taper  burning  in  her 


358  B.  24 

hand.  She  was  tall  and  straight  and  slender,  with 
a  beautiful  white  face  that  might  have  been  cut  out 
of  clear  marble,  but  her  hair  and  eyes  were  as  black 
as  night.  She  was  dressed  in  some  sort  of  white 
dressing-gown  which  flowed  down  to  her  feet,  and 
what  with  this  robe  and  what  with  her  face,  it  seemed 
as  if  a  spirit  from  above  was  standing  in  front  of 
me.  My  knees  knocked  together,  and  I  held  on  to 
the  shutter  with  one  hand  to  give  me  support.  I 
should  have  turned  and  run  away  if  I  had  had  the 
strength,  but  I  could  only  just  stand  and  stare 
at  her. 

She  soon  brought  me  back  to  myself  once  more. 

"Don't  be  frightened!"  said  she,  and  they  were 
strange  words  for  the  mistress  of  a  house  to  have  to 
use  to  a  burglar.  "I  saw  you  out  of  my  bedroom 
window  when  you  were  hiding  under  those  trees, 
so  I  slipped  downstairs,  and  then  I  heard  you  at  the 
window.  I  should  have  opened  it  for  you  if  you 
had  waited,  but  you  managed  it  yourself  just  as  I 
came  up." 

I  still  held  in  my  hand  the  long  clasp-knife  with 
which  I  had  opened  the  shutter.  I  was  unshaven 
and  grimed  from  a  week  on  the  roads.  Altogether, 
there  are  few  people  who  would  have  cared  to  face 
me  alone  at  one  in  the  morning;  but  this  woman, 
if  I  had  been  her  lover  meeting  her  by  appointment, 
could  not  have  looked  upon  me  with  a  more  welcoming 
eye.  She  laid  her  hand  upon  my  sleeve  and  drew  me 
into  the  room. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  this,  ma'am  ?  Don't  get 
trying  any  little  games   upon   me,"   said  I,  in  my 


B.  24  359 

roughest  way — and  I  can  put  it  on  rough  when  I 
like.  "  It'll  be  the  worse  for  you  if  you  play  me 
any  trick,"  I  added,  showing  her  my  knife. 

"  I  will  play  you  no  trick,"  said  she.  "  On  the 
contrary,  I  am  your  friend,  and  I  wish  to  help 
you."  * 

"  Excuse  me,  ma'am,  but  I  find  it  hard  to  believe 
that,"  said  I.     "  Why  should  you  wish  to  help  me  ?  " 

"I  have  my  own  reasons,"  said  she;  and  then 
suddenly,  with  those  black  eyes  blazing  out  of  her 
white  face :  "  It's  because  I  hate  him,  hate  him,  hate 
him  !     JSTow  you  understand." 

I  remembered  what  the  landlord  had  told  me, 
and  I  did  understand.  I  looked  at  her  Ladyship's 
face,  and  I  knew  that  I  could  trust  her.  She 
wanted  to  revenge  herself  upon  her  husband.  She 
wanted  to  hit  him  where  it  would  hurt  him  most — 
upon  the  pocket.  She  hated  him  so  that  she  would 
even  lower  her  pride  to  take  such  a  man  as  me  into 
her  confidence  if  she  could  gain  her  end  by  doing  so. 
I've  hated  some  folk  in  my  time,  but  I  don't  think  I 
ever  understood  what  hate  was  until  I  saw  that 
woman's  face  in  the  light  of  the  taper. 

"You'll  trust  me  now?"  said  she,  with  another 
coaxing  touch  upon  my  sleeve. 

*  Yes,  your  Ladyship." 

"  You  know  me,  then  ? " 

"  I  can  guess  who  you  are." 

"  I  daresay  my  wrongs  are  the  talk  of  the  county. 
But  what  does  he  care  for  that?  He  only  cares  for 
one  thing  in  the  whole  world,  and  that  you  can  take 
from  him  this  night.     Have  you  a  bag  ? " 


360  B.  24 

"  No,  your  Ladyship." 

"Shut  the  shutter  behind  you.  Then  no  one  can 
see  the  light.  You  are  quite  safe.  The  servants  all 
sleep  in  the  other  wing.  I  can  show  you  where  all 
the  most  valuable  things  are.  You  cannot  carry  them 
all,  so  we  must  pick  the  best." 

The  room  in  which  I  found  myself  was  long  and 
low,  with  many  rugs  and  skins  scattered  about  on  a 
polished  wood  floor.  Small  cases  stood  here  and  there, 
and  the  walls  were  decorated  with  spears  and  swords 
and  paddles,  and  other  things  which  find  their  way 
into  museums.  There  were  some  queer  clothes,  too, 
which  had  been  brought  from  savage  countries,  and  the 
lady  took  down  a  large  leather  sack-bag  from  among 
them. 

"This  sleeping-sack  will  do,"  said  she.  "Now 
come  with  me  and  I  will  show  you  where  the  medals 
are." 

It  was  like  a  dream  to  me  to  think  that  this  tall, 
white  woman  was  the  lady  of  the  house,  and  that  she 
was  lending  me  a  hand  to  rob  her  own  home.  I  could 
have  burst  out  laughing  at  the  thought  of  it,  and  yet 
there  was  something  in  that  pale  face  of  hers  which 
stopped  my  laughter  and  turned  me  cold  and  serious. 
She  swept  on  in  front  of  me  like  a  spirit,  with  the 
green  taper  in  her  hand,  and  I  walked  behind  with  my 
sack  until  we  came  to  a  door  at  the  end  of  this 
museum.  It  was  locked,  but  the  key  was  in  it,  and 
she  led  me  through. 

The  room  beyond  was  a  small  one,  hung  all  round 
with  curtains  which  had  pictures  on  them.  It  was 
the  hunting  of  a  deer  that  was  painted  on  it,  as  I 


B.  24  361 

remember,  and  in  the  flicker  of  that  light  you'd  have 
sworn  that  the  dogs  and  the  horses  were  streaming  round 
the  walls.  The  only  other  thing  in  the  room  was  a  row 
of  cases  made  of  walnut,  with  brass  ornaments.  They 
had  glass  tops,  and  beneath  this  glass  I  saw  the  long 
lines  of  those  gold  medals,  some  of  them  as  big  as  a 
plate  and  half  an  inch  thick,  all  resting  upon  red 
velvet  and  glowing  and  gleaming  in  the  darkness. 
My  fingers  were  just  itching  to  be  at  them,  and  I 
slipped  my  knife  under  the  lock  of  one  of  the  cases 
to  wrench  it  open. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  she,  laying  her  hand  upon 
my  arm.    "  You  might  do  better  than  this." 

"I  am  very  well  satisfied,  ma'am,"  said  I,  "and 
much  obliged  to  your  Ladyship  for  kind  assistance." 

"You  can  do  better,"  she  repeated.  "Would  not 
golden  sovereigns  be  worth  more  to  you  than  these 
things  ? " 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  I.    "  That's  best  of  alL" 
"  Well,"  said  she.     "  He  sleeps  just  above  our  head. 
It  is  but  one  short  staircase.     There  is  a  tin  box  with 
money  enough  to  fill  this  bag  under  his  bed." 
"  How  can  I  get  it  without  waking  him  ? " 
"What  matter  if  he  does  wake?"    She  looked 
very  hard  at  me  as  she  spoke.     "  You  could  keep  him 
from  calling  out." 

"  No,  no,  ma'am,  I'll  have  none  of  that." 
"Just  as.  you  like,"  said  she.  "I  thought  that 
you  were  a  stout-hearted  sort  of  man  by  your  appear- 
ance, but  I  see  that  I  made  a  mistake.  If  you  are 
afraid  to  run  the  risk  of  one  old  man,  then  of  course 
you  cannot  have   the  gold  which  is  under  his  bed. 


362  B.  24 

You  are  the  best  judge  of  your  own  business,  but 
I  should  think  that  you  would  do  better  at  some  other 
trade." 

"  I'll  not  have  murder  on  my  conscience." 

"You  could  overpower  him  without  harming  him. 
I  never  said  anything  of  murder.  The  money  lies 
under  the  bed.  But  if  you  are  faint-hearted,  it  is 
better  that  you  should  not  attempt  it." 

She  worked  upon  me  so,  partly  with  her  scorn  and 
partly  with  this  money  that  she  held  before  my  eyes, 
that  I  believe  I  should  have  yielded  and  taken  my 
chances  upstairs,  had  it  not  been  that  I  saw  her  eyes 
following  the  struggle  within  me  in  such  a  crafty, 
malignant  fashion,  that  it  was  evident  she  was  bent 
upon  making  me  the  tool  of  her  revenge,  and  that 
she  would  leave  me  no  choice  but  to  do  the  old  man  an 
injury  or  to  be  captured  by  him.  She  felt  suddenly 
that  she  was  giving  herself  away,  and  she  changed  her 
face  to  a  kindly,  friendly  smile,  but  it  was  too  late,  for 
I  had  had  my  warning. 

"  I  will  not  go  upstairs,"  said  I.  "  I  have  all  I 
want  here." 

She  looked  her  contempt  at  me,  and  there  never 
was  a  face  which  could  look  it  plainer. 

"  Very  good.  You  can  take  these  medals.  I  should 
be  glad  if  you  would  begin  at  this  end.  I  suppose  they 
will  all  be  the  same  value  when  melted  down,  but  these 
are  the  ones  which  are  the  rarest,  and,  therefore,  the 
most  precious  to  him.  It  is  not  necessary  to  break  the 
locks.  If  you  press  that  brass  knob  you  will  find  that 
there  is  a  secret  spring.  So !  Take  that  small  one 
first— it  is  the  very  apple  of  his  eye." 


B.  24  363 

She  had  opened  one  of  the  cases,  and  the  beautiful 
things  all  lay  exposed  before  me.  I  had  my  hand  upon 
the  one  which  she  had  pointed  out,  when  suddenly  a 
change  came  over  her  face,  and  she  held  up  one  finger 
as  a  warning.  "  Hist !  "  she  whispered.  "  What  is 
that?" 

Far  away  in  the  silence  of  the  house  we  heard  a  low, 
dragging,  shuffling  sound,  and  the  distant  tread  of  feet. 
She  closed  and  fastened  the  case  in  an  instant. 

"  It's  my  husband ! "  she  whispered.  "  All  right. 
Don't  be  alarmed.  Til  arrange  it.  Here!  Quick, 
behind  the  tapestry  !  " 

She  pushed  me  behind  the  painted  curtains  upon 
the  wall,  my  empty  leather  bag  still  in  my  hand. 
Then  she  took  her  taper  and  walked  quickly  into  the 
room  from  which  we  had  come.  From  where  I  stood 
I  could  see  her  through  the  open  door. 

"  Is  that  you,  Robert  ?  "  she  cried. 

The  light  of  a  candle  shone  through  the  door  of  the 
museum,  and  the  shuffling  steps  came  nearer  and  nearer. 
Then  I  saw  a  face  in  the  doorway,  a  great,  heavy  face, 
all  lines  and  creases,  with  a  huge  curving  nose,  and  a 
pair  of  gold  glasses  fixed  across  it.  He  had  to  throw 
his  head  back  to  see  through  the  glasses,  and  that  great 
nose  thrust  out  in  front  of  him  like  the  beak  of  some 
sort  of  fowl.  He  was  a  big  man,  very  tall  and  burly, 
so  that  in  his  loose  dressing-gown  his  figure  seemed  to 
fill  up  the  whole  doorway.  He  had  a  pile  of  grey, 
curling  hair  all  round  his  head,  but  his  face  was  clean- 
shaven. His  mouth  was  thin  and  small  and  prim, 
hidden  away  under  his  long,  masterful  nose.  He  stood 
there,  holding  the  candle  in  front  of  him,  and  looking 


364  B.  24 

at  his  wife  with  a  queer,  malicious  gleam  in  his  eyes. 
It  only  needed  that  one  look  to  tell  me  that  he  was  as 
fond  of  her  as  she  was  of  him. 

u  How's  this  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Some  new  tantrum  ? 
What  do  you  mean  by  wandering  about  the  house  ? 
Why  don't  you  go  to  bed  ?  " 

"I  could  not  sleep,"  she  answered.  She  spoke 
languidly  and  wearily.  If  she  was  an  actress  once,  she 
had  not  forgotten  her  calling. 

u  Might  I  suggest,"  said  he,  in  the  same  mocking 
kind  of  voice,  "  that  a  good  conscience  is  an  excellent 
aid  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  That  cannot  be  true,"  she  answered,  "  for  you  sleep 
very  well." 

"  I  have  only  one  thing  in  my  life  to  be  ashamed 
of,"  said  he,  and  his  hair  bristled  up  with  anger  until  he 
looked  like  an  old  cockatoo.  "You  know  best  what 
that  is.  It  is  a  mistake  which  has  brought  its  own 
punishment  with  it." 

"  To  me  as  well  as  to  you.     Eemember  that ! " 

"You  have  very  little  to  whine  about.  It  was  I 
who  stooped  and  you  who  rose." 

"Kose!" 

"  Yes,  rose.  I  suppose  you  do  not  deny  that  it  is 
promotion  to  exchange  the  music-hall  for  Mannering 
Hall.  Fool  that  I  was  ever  to  take  you  out  of  your 
true  sphere ! " 

*'  If  you  think  so,  why  do  you  not  separate  ?  " 

"Because  private  misery  is  better  than  public 
humiliation.  Because  it  is  easier  to  suffer  for  a  mistake 
than  to  own  to  it.  Because  also  I  like  to  keep  you  in 
my  sight,  and  to  know  that  you  cannot  go  back  to  him." 


B.  24  365 

"  You  villain !     You  cowardly  villain ! " 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  lady.  I  know  your  secret  ambition, 
but  it  shall  never  be  while  I  live,  and  if  it  happens 
after  my  death  I  will  at  least  take  care  that  you  go  to 
him  as  a  beggar.  You  and  dear  Edward  will  never 
have  the  satisfaction  of  squandering  my  savings,  and 
you  may  make  up  your  mind  to  that,  my  lady.  Why 
are  those  shutters  and  the  window  open  ? " 

"  I  found  the  night  very  close." 

"  It  is  not  safe.  How  do  you  know  that  some  tramp 
may  not  be  outside  ?  Are  you  aware  that  my  col- 
lection of  medals  is  worth  more  than  any  similar 
collection  in  the  world  ?  You  have  left  the  door  open 
also.  What  is  there  to  prevent  any  one  from  rifling 
the  cases  ? " 

"  I  was  here." 

"  I  know  you  were.  I  heard  you  moving  about  in 
the  medal  room,  and  that  was  why  I  came  down. 
What  were  you  doing  ?  " 

"  Looking  at  the  medals.  What  else  should  I  be 
doing  I " 

"This  curiosity  is  something  new."  He  looked 
suspiciously  at  her  and  moved  on  towards  the  inner 
room,  she  walking  beside  him. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  I  saw  something  which 
startled  me.  I  had  laid  my  clasp-knife  open  upon  the 
top  of  one  of  the  cases,  and  there  it  lay  in  full  view. 
She  saw  it  before  he  did,  and  with  a  woman's  cunning 
she  held  her  taper  out  so  that  the  light  of  it  came 
between  Lord  Mannering's  eyes  and  the  knife.  Then 
she  took  it  in  her  left  hand  and  held  it  against  her 
gown  out  of  his  sight.    He  looked  about  from  case  to 


366  B.  24 

case — I  could  have  put  my  hand  at  one  time  upon 
his  long  nose — but  there  was  nothing  to  show  that  the 
medals  had  been  tampered  with,  and  so,  still  snarling 
and  grumbling,  he  shuffled  off  into  the  other  room  once 
more. 

And  now  I  have  to  speak  of  what  I  heard  rather 
than  of  what  I  saw,  but  I  swear  to  you,  as  I  shall 
stand  some  day  before  my  Maker,  that  what  I  say  is 
the  truth. 

When  they  passed  into  the  outer  room  I  saw  him 
lay  his  candle  upon  the  corner  of  one  of  the  tables,  and 
he  sat  himself  down,  but  in  such  a  position  that  he  was 
just  out  of  my  sight.  She  moved  behind  him,  as  I 
could  tell  from  the  fact  that  the  light  of  her  taper 
threw  his  long,  lumpy  shadow  upon  the  floor  in  front 
of  him.  Then  he  began  talking  about  this  man  whom 
he  called  Edward,  and  every  word  that  he  said  was 
like  a  blistering  drop  of  vitriol.  He  spoke  low,  so 
that  I  could  not  hear  it  all,  but  from  what  I  heard  I 
should  guess  that  she  would  as  soon  have  been  lashed 
with  a  whip.  At  first  she  said  some  hot  words  in 
reply,  but  then  she  was  silent,  and  he  went  on  and  on 
in  that  cold,  mocking  voice  of  his,  nagging  and  insult- 
ing and  tormenting,  until  I  wondered  that  she  could 
bear  to  stand  there  in  silence  and  listen  to  it.  Then 
suddenly  I  heard  him  say  in  a  sharp  voice,  "  Come 
from  behind  me!  Leave  go  of  my  collar!  What! 
would  you  dare  to  strike  me  ? "  There  was  a  sound 
like  a  blow,  just  a  soft  sort  of  thud,  and  then  I  heard 
him  cry  out,  "  My  God,  it's  blood  ! "  He  shuffled  with 
his  feet  as  if  he  was  getting  up,  and  then  I  heard 
another  blow,  and  he  cried  out,  "  Oh,  you  she-devil !  " 


B.  24  367 

and  was  quiet,  except  for  a  dripping  and  splashing 
upon  the  floor. 

I  ran  out  from  behind  my  curtain  at  that,  and 
rushed  into  the  other  room,  shaking  all  over  with  the 
horror  of  it.  The  old  man  had  slipped  down  in  the 
chair,  and  his  dressing-gown  had  rucked  up  until  he 
looked  as  if  he  had  a  monstrous  hump  to  his  back. 
His  head,  with  the  gold  glasses  still  fixed  on  his  nose, 
was  lolling  over  upon  one  side,  and  his  little  mouth 
was  open  just  like  a  dead  fish.  I  could  not  see  where 
the  blood  was  coming  from,  but  I  could  still  hear  it 
drumming  upon  the  floor.  She  stood  behind  him  with 
the  candle  shining  full  upon  her  face.  Her  lips  were 
pressed  together  and  her  eyes  shining,  and  a  touch 
of  colour  had  come  into  each  of  her  cheeks.  It  just 
wanted  that  to  make  her  the  most  beautiful  woman 
I  had  ever  seen  in  my  life. 

"  You've  done  it  now  !  *'  said  I. 

"Yes,"  said  she,  in  her  quiet  way,  "I've  done  it 
now." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ? "  I  asked.  "  They'll 
have  you  for  murder  as  sure  as  fate." 

"Never  fear  about  me.  I  have  nothing  to  live 
for,  and  it  does  not  matter.  Give  me  a  hand  to  set 
him  straight  in  the  chair.  It  is  horrible  to  see  him 
like  this!" 

I  did  so,  though  it  turned  me  cold  all  over  to  touch 
him.  Some  of  his  blood  came  on  my  hand  and 
sickened  me. 

"Now,"  said  she,  "you  may  as  well  have  the 
medals  as  any  one  else.     Take  them  and  go." 

"I  don't  want  them.     I  only  want  to  get  away. 


368  B.  24 

I  was  never  mixed  up  with  a  business  like  this 
before." 

"  Nonsense ! "  said  she.  "  You  came  for  the  medals, 
and  here  they  are  at  your  mercy.  Why  should  you 
not  have  them  ?     There  is  no  one  to  prevent  you." 

I  held  the  bag  still  in  my  hand.  She  opened  the 
case,  and  between  us  we  threw  a  hundred  or  so  of  the 
medals  into  it.  They  were  all  from  the  one  case,  but 
I  could  not  bring  myself  to  wait  for  any  more.  Then 
I  made  for  the  window,  for  the  very  air  of  this  house 
seemed  to  poison  me  after  what  I  had  seen  and  heard. 
As  I  looked  back,  I  saw  her  standing  there,  tall  and 
graceful,  with  the  light  in  her  hand,  just  as  I  had 
seen  her  first.  She  waved  good-bye,  and  I  waved 
back  at  her  and  sprang  out  into  the  gravel  drive. 

I  thank  God  that  I  can  lay  my  hand  upon  my 
heart  and  say  that  I  have  never  done  a  murder,  but 
perhaps  it  would  be  different  if  I  had  been  able  to 
read  that  woman's  mind  and  thoughts.  There  might 
have  been  two  bodies  in  the  room  instead  of  one  if 
I  could  have  seen  behind  that  last  smile  of  hers. 
But  I  thought  of  nothing  but  of  getting  safely  away, 
and  it  never  entered  my  head  how  she  might  be 
fixing  the  rope  round  my  neck.  I  had  not  taken  five 
steps  out  from  the  window  skirting  down  the  shadow 
of  the  house  in  the  way  that  I  had  come,  when  I 
heard  a  scream  that  might  have  raised  the  parish,  and 
then  another  and  another. 

"  Murder ! "  she  cried.  "  Murder  !  Murder !  Help ! " 
and  her  voice  rang  out  in  the  quiet  of  the  night-time 
and  sounded  over  the  whole  country-side.  It  went 
through  my  head,  that  dreadful  cry.     In  an  instant 


B.  24  369 

lights  began  to  move  and  windows  to  fly  up,  not 
only  in  the  house  behind  me,  but  at  the  lodge  and 
in  the  stables  in  front.  Like  a  frightened  rabbit  I 
bolted  down  the  drive,  but  I  heard  the  clang  of  the 
gate  being  shut  before  I  could  reach  it.  Then  I  hid 
my  bag  of  medals  under  some  dry  fagots,  and  I  tried 
to  get  away  across  the  park,  but  some  one  saw  me  in 
the  moonlight,  and  presently  I  had  half  a  dozen  of 
them  with  dogs  upon  my  heels.  I  crouched  down 
among  the  brambles,  but  those  dogs  were  too  many 
for  me,  and  I  was  glad  enough  when  the  men  came 
up  and  prevented  me  from  being  torn  into  pieces. 
They  seized  me,  and  dragged  me  back  to  the  room 
from  which  I  had  come. 

*  Is  this  the  man,  your  Ladyship  ? "  asked  the 
oldest  of  them — the  same  whom  I  found  out  afterwards 
to  be  the  butler. 

She  had  been  bending  over  the  body,  with  her 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  now  she  turned  upon 
me  with  the  face  of  a  fury.  Oh,  what  an  actress 
that  woman  was ! 

"  Yes,  yes,  it  is  the  very  man,"  she  cried.  "  Oh, 
you  villain,  you  cruel  villain,  to  treat  an  old  man  so  !  " 

There  was  a  man  there  who  seemed  to  be  a 
village  constable.  He  laid  his  hand  upon  my 
shoulder. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  that  1 "  said  he. 

"  It  was  she  who  did  it,"  I  cried,  pointing  at  the 
woman,  whose  eyes  never  flinched  before  mine. 

"  Come !  come !  Try  another !  "  said  the  constable, 
and  one  of  the  men-servants  struck  at  me  with  his 
fist. 

2  B 


370  B.  24 

"I  tell  you  that  I  saw  her  do  it.  She  stabbed 
him  twice  with  a  knife.  She  first  helped  me  to  rob 
him,  and  then  she  murdered  him." 

The  footman  tried  to  strike  me  again,  but  she  held 
up  her  hand. 

"Do  not  hurt  him,"  said  she.  "I  think  that  his 
punishment  may  safely  be  left  to  the  law." 

"  I'll  see  to  that,  your  Ladyship,"  said  the  constable. 
"Your  Ladyship  actually  saw  the  crime  committed, 
did  you  not  ? " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  saw  it  with  my  own  eyes.  It  was 
horrible.  We  heard  the  noise  and  we  came  down. 
My  poor  husband  was  in  front.  The  man  had  one 
of  the  cases  open,  and  was  filling  a  black  leather  bag 
which  he  held  in  his  hand.  He  rushed  past  us,  and 
my  husband  seized  him.  There  was  a  struggle,  and 
he  stabbed  him  twice.  There  you  can  see  the  blood 
upon  his  hands.  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  his  knife  is 
still  in  Lord  Mannering's  body." 

"  Look  at  the  blood  upon  her  hands !  "  I  cried. 

"  She  has  been  holding  up  his  Lordship's  head,  you 
lying  rascal,"  said  the  butler. 

"And  here's  the  very  sack  her  Ladyship  spoke 
of,"  said  the  constable,  as  a  groom  came  in  with  the 
one  which  I  had  dropped  in  my  flight.  "And  here 
are  the  medals  inside  it.  That's  good  enough  for 
me.  We  will  keep  him  safe  here  to-night,  and  to- 
morrow the  inspector  and  I  can  take  him  into 
Salisbury." 

"  Poor  creature,"  said  the  woman.  "  For  my  own 
part,  I  forgive  him  any  injury  which  he  has  done  me. 
Who  knows  what  temptation  may  have  driven  him 


B.  24  371 

to  crime  ?  His  conscience  and  the  law  will  give  him 
punishment  enough  without  any  reproach  of  mine 
rendering  it  more  bitter." 

I  could  not  answer — I  tell  you,  sir,  I  could  not 
answer,  so  taken  aback  was  I  by  the  assurance  of  the 
woman.  And  so,  seeming  by  my  silence  to  agree  to 
all  that  she  had  said,  I  was  dragged  away  by  the 
butler  and  the  constable  into  the  cellar,  in  which  they 
locked  me  for  the  night. 

There,  sir,  I  have  told  you  the  whole  story  of  the 
events  which  led  up  to  the  murder  of  Lord  Mannering 
by  his  wife  upon  the  night  of  September  the  14th, 
in  the  year  1894.  Perhaps  you  will  put  my  statement 
on  one  side  as  the  constable  did  at  Mannering  Towers, 
or  the  judge  afterwards  at  the  county  assizes.  Or 
perhaps  you  will  see  that  there  is  the  ring  of  truth 
in  what  I  say,  and  you  will  follow  it  up,  and  so  make 
your  name  for  ever  as  a  man  who  does  not  grudge 
personal  trouble  where  justice  is  to  be  done.  I  have 
only  you  to  look  to,  sir,  and  if  you  will  clear  my 
name  of  this  false  accusation,  then  I  will  worship 
you  as  one  man  never  yet  worshipped  another.  But 
if  you  fail  me,  then  I  give  you  my  solemn  promise 
that  I  will  rope  myself  up,  this  day  month,  to  the 
bar  of  my  window,  and  from  that  time  on  I  will  come 
to  plague  you  in  your  dreams  if  ever  yet  one  man 
was  able  to  come  back  and  to  haunt  another.  What 
I  ask  you  to  do  is  very  simple.  Make  inquiries  about 
this  woman,  watch  her,  learn  her  past  history,  find 
out  what  use  she  is  making  of  the  money  which  has 
come  to  her,  and  whether  there  is  not  a  man  Edward 
as  I  have  stated.    If  from  all  this  you  learn  anything 


372  B.  24 

which  shows  you  her  real  character,  or  which  seems 
to  you  to  corroborate  the  story  which  I  have  told 
you,  then  I  am  sure  that  I  can  rely  upon  your  good- 
ness of  heart  to  come  to  the  rescue  of  an  innocent 
man. 


THE  END 


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8vo,  6s. 

SKETCH.—'  Equal  to,  If  not  better  than,  the  best  he  has  ever  written.  "  The 
Velvet  Glove  "  is  the  ve*r  essence  of  aood  romance.' 

THE    ISLE    OF    UNREST.     Seventh  Impression. 

With  Illustrations.     Crown  8vo,  6s. 

THE  TIMES.—*  Capital  reading,  absorbing  reading.  ...  An  exciting  story, 
with  "  thrills  "  at  every  third  page.' 

RODEN'S  CORNER.    Fifth  Edition.    Crown  8vo,6/. 

TR  UTH.—'  A  novel  I  defy  you  to  lay  down  when  once  you  have  got  well  into  it.' 

IN  KEDAR'S  TENTS.  Tenth  Edition.  Crown  8vo,  6s. 

PALL  MALL  GAZETTE.— 'After  the  few  first  pages  one  ceases  to  criticize, 
one  can  only  enjoy.  ...  In  a  word— -the  use  of  which,  unqualified,  is  such  a  rare 
and  delicious  luxury — the  book  is  good.' 

THE  SOWERS.  Twenty-Eighth  Edition.  Crown 8 vo,  6s. 

GRAPHIC. — 'His  absorbingly  interesting  story  will  be  found  very  difficult 
Indeed  to  lay  down  until  its  last  page  has  been  turned.' 

WITH   EDGED  TOOLS.     Crown  8vo,  6s.;  and  Fcap. 

8vo,  boards,  Pictorial  Cover,  2s. ;  or  limp  red  cloth,  2s.  6d. 
WESTMINSTER   GAZETTE.— 'Admirably  conceived  as  a  whole,   and  most 
skilful  in  its  details.    The  story  never  flags  or  loiters.' 

FROM    ONE   GENERATION   TO   ANOTHER. 

Crown  8vo,  6s.;  and  Fcap.  8vo,  boards,  Pictorial  Cover,  2s.;  or  limp 
red  cloth,  if.  6d. 
ILLUSTRATED    LONDON    NEWS.— 'The    book    U  a   good  book.    The 
characters  of  Michael  Seymour  and  of  James  Agar  are  admirably  contrasted.' 

THE  SLAVE  OF  THE  LAMP.    Crown  8 vo,  6*.;  and 

Fcap.  8vo,  boards,  Pictorial  Cover,  2s. ;  or  limp  red  cloth,  2s.  6d. 
MANCHESTER  GUARDIAN.—'  A  masterly  story  .  .  .  so  like  real  life,  and  so 
entirely  unconventional.' 

THE  GREY   LADY.    With  ia  Full-page  Illustrations  by 
Arthur  Rackham.     Sixth  Impression.    Crown  8vo,  6s. 

BRITISH  WEEKLY.— 'An  interesting,  thoughtful,  carefully  written  story, 
with  a  charming  touch  of  pensiveness.' 

NOTE.-Mr.  MERRIMAN'S   14  NOVELS   are  published  uniform  In  style, 
binding,  and  price,  and  thus  form  a  Collected  Edition  of  his  Works. 

London  i  SMITH,  ELDER  &  CO.,  IS  Waterloo  Place,  S.W« 

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